The Wild Escape
by maya295
Summary: post "Help Me" - this story is based on the pics that were available on the net and were taken in various places during what once was known as "the shooting of 7x01"... until it all turned out differently - anyway, here's the story those pics had told me!
1. Cuddy's Office:The Concept Of Kidnapping

_HI EVERYONE!_

_Well, I am back with a new story!_

_WARNING!: I have NO idea what will happen in season 7 premiere *for real*, but I just want to warn spoiler free people, that this story depicts situations, places and events that are extrapolated from pics taken during the shooting of episode 7x01 that have been available on the Internet lately._

_So this is my take on what kind of story those pics tell me…_

_I hope you'll like it._

_Oh and, you can consider this story is the virtual follow up of my previous one-shot "There Is A Us" (although, I'm going back to a more classic writing style with this one) – I, of course, would encourage you to read it if you haven't! haha_

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**** THE ****WILD ESCAPE ****

Wednesday.

Probably his favorite day of the week now.

It was still early in the morning; _that _morning. Only a while before, in the wee hours of dawn, as he was lying down on his bathroom floor, wrecked, thinking his life was worthless and considering himself eternally doomed, _she_ had come. Completely out of blue, she had shown up and she had blown hope into him again, with three words. The most beautiful three words in the world.

"_I love you."_

Who cared if she wished she didn't? _She couldn't help it_. That, was the only thing he'd heard. Fierce, complicated, unsure, unpredictable, sometimes scathing, but overall lost, and so touching. She'd come and she'd chosen _him_.

At first he'd thought that was a bad dream. Or worse: the ironic effect of exhaustion throwing him into another blurry hallucinating state of mind. And still, he hadn't even taken the Vicodin! But no. Everything was real. Amazingly real. He'd made love to her, _twice_, just to be sure. One, almost right away, by fear she would vanish into thin air if he didn't take her there and then; and a second time, just moments earlier, after merely a couple hours of soothing sleep, when bliss to find her wrapped inside his arms had hit him again. And each time, the sensations were so vivid and quivering that it was impossible to doubt it anymore: it was happening. And God forbid, even if he hadn't taken the time to taste her thoroughly, he was already sure that there was a good chance she'd become his new addiction, just as intoxicating and dangerous as the drugs he'd taken his whole life, only so much healthier…

But, even though he could have easily wished for that out of time moment to last for another endless hour, or possibly forever, at some point she had started to wriggle against him, and knowing her like he did, he'd instantly given up trying to stop the process: she _needed_ to leave because she had decided to, a gush of irrepressible – useless, in his opinion – sense of responsibility suddenly overwhelming her; and there was nothing to do except watching her squirm in guilt, touchingly lower her gaze, reeling off dozens of excuses he knew too well, but which – for once- he couldn't be angry at, while she was getting dressed. She'd promised to call and a shy, but o so beautiful, smile later she'd eventually disappeared into the hallway and left.

He'd stayed there, laid in his bed, surrounded by a silence he realized he did not hate anymore, because for the first time in a long time, it felt like a peaceful one. And he'd smiled to the ceiling for a good, long, about ten minutes, basking in this new sensation of fulfilling quietness.

Cleaning the bathtub in order to take a long deserved shower was not the most exciting way of starting his day alone; but maybe throwing the mirror in it wasn't a good idea in the first place either. While he was collecting the shards, an out of the blue glimpse of Hannah had hit his mind and he'd clenched his jaws to stomach the sudden image, taking long breathings to slow down his racing heart, but he hadn't fought it. She would undoubtedly accompany his thoughts, for another couple of days or more, but this time, he wasn't afraid, because he knew she wouldn't haunt him like a dark ghost. She would just be there, and her death would sadden him, but overall she'd remind him of the day when he was loved, just when he'd thought it was not possible anymore.

Love, sex, hot shower and black coffee: that was the best cocktail possible to blow life and energy into his battered body again; that, and some ibuprofen. A good dose of that last one, let's be honest. He could gladly start to believe in his good star but even so, he wasn't ready to believe in miracles...

He was seated in his kitchen, staring at the content of his mug, his thoughts wandering freely, though quite all in the same direction, when his cell phone rang. It'd have been impossible not to _hear_ his smile going all the way through the other side of the line when he greeted her with an almost chanting "Hello!"

"Hi" She answered with the sexiest voice ever and a light shiver ran down his spine. "How are you?"

"Good. I've cleaned all the mess and took a shower, mama. When do I get my reward for being such a good boy?"

She feigned not to hear, and he could swear he _saw_ her rolling her eyes.

"How's your leg?" She asked with concern.

"Took some ibuprofen. It's okay. And you?"

"I have the best nanny."

"That's not a nanny I need. It's you."

"I'm not talking about you, idiot! I'm talking about Rachel. Marina accepted to stay for an extra few more hours, while I'm dealing with stuff here."

Her voice had become suspiciously low as if she'd hoped it could prevent him from hearing that last part; which of course it couldn't.

"You're at the hospital?" He exclaimed disapprovingly.

A sigh.

"Cuddy!"

"What? It's just for a few hours. I need to…"

"Nooo. You don't _need_ to. The only thing you really need is me, and more of that body friction we started doing this morning. Or maybe I'm the one needing it the most, but then, I'm pretty sure I also need you for that…"

"House-"

"And I do amazing massages."

A laugh.

"_Erotic_ massages" He specified, sensing the weakness.

"Stop-"

She'd said "stop" and her husky voice had meant the opposite, which wholly delighted him. That would have been a done deal if her office phone hadn't decided against it by ringing just a second after. He heard her suck in a sharp breath and his hand gripped the receiver tighter.

"I'll call you later, ok?" She said apologetically, and it clutched his heart a little.

He sighed. He glanced at his clock on the wall and the weight of the passing hours suddenly fell on him. Wasted hours without her. He put his coffee mug back on the kitchen counter. Damn, he already missed her! He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he knew that was surely an annoying one at the moment.

And he was not going to agree to let her phone him every two hours and be okay with that! If that was the kind of _relationship_ he wanted, for $1.50 per minute, he already knew a list of more appropriate numbers to dial…

He went in his bedroom decidedly, retrieved some stuff here and there from his drawers, grabbed his backpack and threw them inside. He ruled out the leather jacket option with disappointment - but realism - when he remembered how shabby it was after the previous day. Hannah's image popped into his head again and he briefly closed his eyes, before he went to pick up another jacket randomly from the closet in his hallway.

He barely hesitated at the doorsill of his apartment; of course, he'd contemplated the idea but no: he was not going to call Wilson. He cleverly decided that it'd be the best option not to, at least if he wanted to get this over with quickly and without being forced to go through an endless talk about how he felt and how he'd coped with the latest events and how 'yes! He was _absolutely_ sure!' he was doing great.

So, he chose to call a taxi instead. 10 miles, $20 (including a _really_ generous tip, but wasn't he in a generous mood?) and he was dropped in downtown Trenton, just outside the security perimeter where he'd left his bike. The taxi driver mumbled some sorry words for the victims and he hastily drove off. Limping into the zone again, House tried not to pay attention to the still rather buzzing agitation all around him, the site looking a little different in the day light, but just as much devastated as he remembered it was. He didn't dawdle there and as soon as he spotted his bike, he put his helmet on, thanking Karma for finding it still there, hold the extra one he'd taken at his place to the throttle and left the place, shamefully aware of him avoiding crossing anyone's gazes in the process.

Further on the road, when he was far enough not to feel the shadow of collapsed buildings behind him anymore, he stopped his bike, took his helmet off and fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket.

"Joseph? It's Greg. House... I'm good, actually. Quite good... You?... Nice... Joseph, I need a favor..."

# # # # # # # # # # # #

Going there. Taking care of things. And then making phone calls, to ensure he had dealt with all the essentials matters; that he had them under control. Under _his_ control. For the rest, he completely trusted his inimitable sense of improvisation, and his irresistible charms, but he was smart enough to know that there were things he'd better had conscientiously thought out _before_, if he wanted to give himself a chance to make this work, _his way_. It was almost 10 in the morning when he pushed the familiar door open, and when he did, an all new feeling invaded his body, flooded into his veins, making him stick out his chest as he walked proudly inside with a wide beam on his face.

"House!" She exclaimed, taken aback, "What are you doing here? I told you you could take the day off—"

"And, that's exactly what I'm doing: taking the day off."

"Except I said it in a way that means you could stay at home and get some rest."

"I want to spend my day off with you."

A fond smile spontaneously formed on her lips.

"Aww," She said, fluttering her eyelashes a little, visibly melting. But, suddenly aware of her school girl reaction, she swiftly pulled herself together and held her chin up, with as much seriousness as she could display. "But I have things to do so I'm afraid that is not conceivable."

"No, you don't get it." He insisted, "I'm here to kidnap you."

Cuddy allowed herself to laugh, in case it was just a joke… or maybe, because she actually _wished_ it was just a joke. But something in the way he was looking at her told her that there was more than one good chance it wasn't.

"House," she started, hating to have to turn his offer down, but thinking she had no other reasonable choice to consider, "After our intervention in Trenton yesterday, I need to deal with a lot of paper works."

"Just leave it there. You'll do all the boring stuff later."

"Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. I need to—"

"Yes it does! Cuddy, when was the last time you had fun?"

"What does it have to do with anything?"

"You're giving yourself excuses."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You know those paper works won't go anywhere. And you won't be sent to jail if you deal with them tomorrow either." He paused and let the silence filled the room with solemnity. "One day, Cuddy. Just ONE day. That's all I'm asking."

She sighed and, as if it was acting on its own, her hand dropped the pen she was holding atop her desk. House took advantage of this first little crack in her control freak wall to come closer to her desk. He grabbed her hand to make her stand up and pulled her into his embrace.

"Cool, you're wearing pants." He said, looking her up and down. "That's perfect."

She refused to even start thinking why that was and instead, wriggled in his arms, doing her best to try to show her disapprobation; but he was not moving or letting go of her and his smile was full of confidence. And so irresistibly beguiling. She hated when he smiled like that. It made her legs give way under her, and that was never a good thing. Not that she was against the idea of holding on to him tighter, but it was certainly not helping to prove her point...

"House! Please, you know that's not possible." She really hoped she'd sounded convincing, but even her legendary stubborn resistance was getting weaker by the second. And he could very well _feel_ it.

"Cuddy, we had sex." He said, point blank.

She puffed, always so incredibly baffled by the way he could take her off guard by his incessant and unexpected change of subject… or strategy?

"Really?" She asked, more seductively than she'd wished.

"Well, you were naked, I was naked; there were definitely some lower parts of the anatomy interlinked, and body fluids exchanged… so I'm pretty sure the Medical Encyclopedia would qualify that as sex, yeah!"

"You're such a romantic."

"Damn, you got me unmasked!" He said, grinning. Then without a warning, he tightened his grab around her waist and yanked her closer against his hips, staring down at her with sudden gravity. "What I mean is the last time it happened…" He resolutely planted his baby blue eyes into hers and took a sharp breath, "Cuddy, I've no intention of waiting another 25 years this time."

"For what?" She dared ask in a whisper, rendered breathless by the way his hoarse voice had just sounded and the burning gaze he was laying on her.

"Try to make it work." He said tentatively.

She briefly closed her eyes. That ocean blue gaze was dangerously enthralling and, as long as she would look into it, she would never be able to find a good reason to explain... a good reason to explain... She opened her eyes again. He was still stubbornly staring down at her. Oh God! She desperately needed a good reason.

"Come on. You know you want to." He carried on with a voice that already sounded victorious. "You're gonna love it; _I_'ll make you love it, I promise."

"But Rachel."

There. She had it: one hell of a good reason.

"Forget about her!"

"Ha! Sure!" She laughed at the absolute ridicule of his command. "That's not possible and you know that."

"Yes, I do. Which is why I called your nanny and I informed her you'd be home exceptionally late today, so don't worry she'll take good care of Rachel for as long as you're out with me."

"What? You called Marina?... How the hell did you-"

Of course she knew that House was the kind of man who'd be ready to do anything just to get satisfaction when he'd set his mind on something, but she was not really used to seeing that side of him apply to her daughter's care or other domestic concerns that he usually didn't bother to anticipate. She was impressed; in a good way. And her legs kept getting weaker, along with her resistance.

"I know what I want." He went on doggedly. "So, I just do what is needed to have it. And... I may also have promised Marina you'd give her a big raise."

Of course. And here she was about to think he'd stepped into responsible, mature, territory.

"House!"

"What?" He exclaimed, his eyebrows going up in an innocent, incredulous, arch, "Didn't you say you had the best nanny earlier on the phone? And do you _really_ think "best" is something you find at every street corners? You know if you want to keep her, you need to give her good reasons to stay."

He was greeting her with his famous "duh!" face, which usually and quite simultaneously made her roll her eyes.

"I'm in full support of that idea myself." He went on, "As long as you have a happy nanny to take care of Rachel, it means I have a happy mom to take care of _me_!"

He emphasized his point with a compelling, killing, smug smile which finished her last trace of resistance off. Oh yes! He was going to exhaust her, make her lose her temper, get mad. She would need to argue and nitpick over every tiny little detail. He would not let go and it will drive her crazy, but... damn, she will love that. Let her go to hell right away, if she wouldn't love that...

"You know I'm a possessive pain in the ass." He added. "I'll make your life a living hell if you don't say yes."

She laughed: sometimes she really wondered if he could read her thoughts.

"Ok. I just need to..."

She started to bend over to her computer keyboard but he swiftly grabbed her wrist and held her back.

"Hey!" She protested. "I need to send an email. It's important ok? Not that you'd understand that concept anyway, but it's just one goddamn key to press!"

He let go if her wrist and pouted like an upset child who realizes he'll have to wait longer to get his whim satisfied.

"Mmm, 'kay…" He groaned, while she turned the computer off, and then she irrepressibly started to gather some files and put them in her briefcase. When he realized what she was doing, he puffed and promptly seized her hand to take her away "Geez, Cuddy! You really don't get anything in the concept of being kidnapped, do you?"

She dropped the briefcase reluctantly and let him drag her to the door. At the threshold, she extricated herself from his grab, straightened up and raised her chin at him.

"From now on, every extra hour Marina needs to stay at my place to watch Rachel is on you!" She said, just for the pleasure to have the last word; and with that, she grabbed the doorknob, walked past him and left her office, passing in front the nurse desk, giving a bossy nod to her assistant, and swaying her hips all the way to the exit, like a lioness circling her prey in the jungle. He watched her go away with a hypnotized look for a few seconds and then he followed after her.

Of course, he was not going to tell her how much he'd already agreed to pay Marina and how long it meant he intended to whisk her away.

(...)

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_**A/N**_

_I'm not really used to cutting my stories in small parts... unless they're bound to be epic... it seems I can either do long, endless, things, or one-shot pieces of writing… lol! So that's why, at first, I'd planned on writing this as a one-shot, but then I thought: what if I tried to make it into a short story for a change?_

_And like that, I thought it'd give me the opportunity to explore the pics better, more thoroughly that is: and that it would also give more excuses for my crazy imagination to express!_

_SO! I'm gonna cut this into little slices... and what I plan on doing next – still basing this *extrapolation* on the 7.01 shooting pics - is to take House and Cuddy (and YOU!) for a bike ride, then to that Italian restaurant, and later to the beach, and in the evening, to a club… until late at night… and… who knows? maybe they'll and up in bed together again!_

_So how's that? do you think I should continue?_

_love, wisdom, respect, wit... and A WONDERFUL SUMMER TO YOU ALL ~ maya_


	2. On The Bike: Sexy Heels

_Hi there!_

_So here's another chapter. It may be short. I don't know: I'm learning here! But it felt right to cut it here. AND, it allows me to update sooner, so that's a good thing, right?_

_Plus, I think, like that, it sort of gives a sort of thematic to each of my "slices"._

_And, as you'll see, this one's theme is "BIKE!"_

_I hope you'll enjoy it!_

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**** CHAPTER ****2 ****

"You came with your bike." She remarked, without the slightest trace of astonishment as if she was just stating evidence, like she would have said: of course, how is _that_ supposed to surprise me?

"I'm not riding your bike." She felt the need to clarify, forcefully hoping that the power of words alone could guarantee her she wouldn't.

And to add persuasion to her assertion, she stopped walking and stood immobile, a few yards away from the black and orange machine. House was limping in front of her and he didn't even bother answering, even less turning around to check if she was still following. He knew she wasn't. He expected her to resist anyway. He maybe even _wanted_ her to resist: wasn't that what made it all the more exciting? Wasn't that the reason why _she_, was so much more exciting than anything else in his life?

When he reached the bike, he conspicuously took his time to hang his cane to the hook along the chromes; then he grabbed hold of the helmet he'd chosen for her and turned around to face her. She was impatiently stomping one foot on the ground, her arms crossed in front of her chest, with that baffled and slightly upset expression of hers, the one she had when every inch of her skin was silently shouting at him: "I can't believe you're ignoring me!" He loved that expression so much. Truth is, it was exactly the one that had prevented him from ignoring her all those years. How could he anyway? That woman was impossible to deny, negate, overlook... impossible to forget... He'd tried once, a long time ago, but he'd given up: that was completely pointless. He didn't really know how to call it, but he was sure of one thing: she and he were like two separated parts that needed to be together to elicit the best out of each other. Sometimes the worst too, but it was as undeniable as the black and white keys on a piano: they could perfectly exist separately, but to create _real_ music, they needed to be combined...

"Come here." He commanded, putting out the helmet in her direction and smiling at her.

As if the sound of his husky groan had mesmerized her, she instantly unwound and started to walk in his direction, with her feline pace, her eyes riveted to his.

Struggling was useless anyway. House knew it and deep down, Cuddy knew it too. Maybe that was just an old reflex, the systematic pattern of their interactions: he suggested, she refused; he insisted, she yielded. Patients, courthouses, bikes... men? Eventually, it always ended up in his favor because eventually, no matter how stubbornly she'd try to lie to herself about this: she had _him_ under her skin. No one else.

"Have you seen my shoes?" She said nonetheless, hoping it would blow some sense into his reckless, irresponsible, mind; just for the sake of it. Who knows? Maybe he would have actually realized that she wasn't dressed appropriately at all for that little escapade he'd planned.

"Of course, I've seen your shoes!" He exclaimed with a shocked look, as if she'd insulted his sense of observation. "I was kinda expecting you to wear something like that. And I must say you never disappoint: just when you think five inches is already an exploit, there you are, pushing the limit further. Frankly? I admire your dedication!"

He beamed and she clenched her fist to resist the urge of smacking him full force on his bicep.

"That's the point." She tried to explain calmly "I cannot wear these shoes and ride your bike. That's dangerous. I mean, who the hell would reasonably ride a bike with these heels?"

"Well _YOU_ would! In my dreams at least; I can assure you that's totally the kind of heels you're wearing. With different clothes though..."

"House! We're not in one of your fantasies-"

"You know, this is funny. _You_ are funny. You protest and you grumble but in fact, you're dying to hop on that bike. I can tell."

"No, I'm not-"

"Oh yes you are! Look at me." She averted her gaze and he smiled broadly. "Ever since I bought this bike, I'm sure you've had thousands of dreams about you and me riding like the wind on that bike... naked. Ok, scratch the last part: that one is in mine..."

She couldn't hold it back; a laughter vibrated in her throat and he grabbed her by the waist; a short moment of silence flew away.

"Forget who you think you need to be." He suddenly said with seriousness, "The Lisa Cuddy I know would not hesitate one second. She'd have sat behind me on that bike and we'd be far away already..." He planted his eyes into hers and stared at her with burning intensity. She shivered. "I want _her_ today with me, not the Dean or someone who thinks wearing heels is not appropriate to ride a bike."

She pursed her lips in an adorable pout and an irresistible need to kiss him overwhelmed her. So, instead of going on with a stupid argument she knew she'd lost since the moment it had started she cupped his jaws in her hands and pulled him down to her face to take his mouth. When her head started spinning dangerously and her heartbeats resonated in her ears, she broke away from his moist lips, slightly panting and her cheeks deliciously flushed by desire.

"Ok, cow-boy! Start your engine and let's go to that strip club or whatever snooker bar you want to take me to-"

"What? Now, that's _really_ the kind of places where you think I'd want to take you?"

"I don't know. Impress me..." She said challengingly.

He narrowed his eyes at her for a split second and then threw the helmet into her hands. Immediately after, he positioned himself on the saddle and turned the engine on, making few loud, conspicuous, accelerations to make it rev, while she was tightening her helmet's tie. She sat behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, wriggling her butt a little to find the best steady position on the saddle. He turned his head and locked eyes with her above his shoulder, waiting for her silent approbation through the visor. She imperceptibly nodded, tightened her grasp around him and the bike shut off like a rocket launched into space at full speed.

Cuddy closed her eyes and she couldn't repress the carefree and uninhibited shout that escaped her lips, which despite the sound being muffled by the helmet, still echoed in the air after the bike had disappeared into the distance.

There. A pattern. It was just as simple as that.

# # # # # # # # # # # #

They had ridden for quite some miles. She didn't really pay attention to the surroundings though her head buried between his shoulder blades most of the time. But it felt so good. She felt safe, leaned against his large back. She wasn't even feeling too cold, even though she was only wearing a tee-shirt and a flimsy light-pink cardigan. Her petite frame was securely hidden behind his strapping body and she was scarcely feeling the blow of the wind on her. She had her hands underneath his jacket, wound around his waist, slid along his warmth. She was not scared by speed, she was not feeling threatened by danger. She was just enjoying the ride. Whenever they had to stop at a red light, he would put a reassuring hand on her knee and press it lightly, like a caress; or he would turn to look at her and interrogate her with a quizzical gaze, to see if everything was ok. And as an answer she would snuggle up closer to him, winding her arms tighter around his waist and feeling his belly skin under her touch.

She could have travelled around the whole world seated on that bike behind him. And her heels? They adjusted to the shape of the passenger pedals perfectly. Actually, they even helped her feet grip onto them better. She was feeling sexy. Sexy and wild. God! Did she miss that feeling!

After an hour or maybe less, House pulled over and stopped the bike on the sidewalk of a large boulevard. He turned the engine off and kept the machine steady, while Cuddy cautiously got off the saddle. She took the helmet off and she shook her head to get rid of its squeezing effect on her skull, while he studied her with a fond smile.

"I like your hair like that." He said, getting off the bike.

"Oh God! You mean they probably look like a mess, right?"

And saying this, she promptly ran her fingers into her hair, only to see for herself that it indeed felt scruffy, curly and completely entangled. House came closer and pulled her into his embrace.

"Yeah" He whispered into her neck, "a perfect, beautiful mess... just like you. You think you can keep it neat and tidy but just blow a little wind of freedom on it and it's going all wild and untamable again... Man, I like that!"

A little sparkle of mischief lit in his eyes and she wound her arms around his neck, smiling knowingly at his innuendo. He leaned down and he nibbled at her lips gently. She bit back and he grazed his stubble on her chin and she moaned softly along his skin. They were in the middle of the sidewalk, kissing and groping. They were like two horny teenagers, and they couldn't care less! However, this was a street, and they were outside, and this little enticing game couldn't last forever without sending them both over the edge if they didn't learn to control themselves. Fast.

House let go of her, and he bent over to take his cane.

"You hungry?" He asked her with a smile.

"Uhh…" For the first time since they had stopped, she allowed herself to give a look around her. She saw the sign above them that read _'Briganti - Italian Restaurant' _and she smiled back. "I don't know, I-"

"What did you have for breakfast this morning? If you even had anything at all, that is!" He said, frowning reproachfully.

She sighed, half-guilty and half-upset and it gave him all the answers he needed.

"Yeah, I knew it! Come on, Cuddy, don't you know breakfasts are the most important meal of the day?" He said, with a demagogic tone.

"Who are you? My dad?"

"Oh-oh!" He guffawed, "I hope not! Otherwise, I would be in big trouble after what you did to me this morning-"

She rolled her eyes and forced herself not to comment on that one.

"Anyway! This place is closed." She remarked, with a smug face, noticing the closed blinds and the obvious lack of activity inside. "So what's your plan now, smartass? You're gonna break into the place and steal us some pizzas?"

He puffed and shook his head disapprovingly.

"Break into the place and steal some pizzas." He repeated, appalled "God Cuddy! You still have so much to learn about me…"

He grabbed his backpack and started to walk away, leaving her rooted to her spot, baffled.

"Just wait for me here." He told her, with a compelling voice that stopped her right in her fit, as she was about to follow after him.

"But-"

"Just stay right here." He repeated, "Wait. And see."

She watched him leave, completely dumbfounded and suddenly, she called after him, with a slight trace of panic in her voice.

"House! House? It was a joke. You're not going to break into the place, right?"

A woman walking her dog passed by her and stared at her suspiciously. Cuddy blushed with embarrassment, lowering her gaze and she took refuge behind House's bike, while he turned round the next corner, a proud beam on his face.

She'd said "Impress me." and that's exactly what he intended on doing.

* * *

_**A/N**_

_THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ENTHUSIASM WITH WHICH YOU'VE WELCOMED THIS STORY!_

_Your reviews and messages really filled my heart with joy. I'm... wow... I guess the right word is impressed, and also very and sincerely flattered._

_Thank you._

_Next chapter's theme, as you've probably already guessed will be 'RESTAURANT'. You may have seen the pic about it, it indeed seems like House and Cuddy are going to be in a restaurant called Briganti. It's a real one by the way! it's in Pasadena (except for House's purpose, we'll pretend it's in New Jersey…), and it's an Italian restaurant._

_So, you'll see how that goes..._

_Oh and tomorrow is Bastille Day here, our National Day. So this is also usually the pretext to take some days off and enjoy a long week-end, and I have NO idea where I'll be or what I'll do. Honestly._

_So I can't promise you that the next update will be tomorrow. All I can say is that it will be SOON!_

"_Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" ; when you really think of what each word really means, I think it's a good thing to wish to people… ~ maya_

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_PS: (To Paulac45) IYLM is on hold right now. unfortunately, as much as I'd wish to be an octopus sometimes, I just cannot write several stories at the same time. I can only focus on one thing after the other. so I'm on this one, and then I've promised to write another one to a very good friend of mine, and I also would so much love to revisit my abandoned "Mayfield Healing Process", it's one of my most cherished babies and I've left it for so long... anyway, like I've said a long time ago, I HAVE the outlines of the next 6 or 7 chapters all done (for IYLM). the work consists in writing them as chapters now. and since I'm heading towards something special, that I don't want to write about AFTER season 7 started (yes because I'm twisted... but in a good way!), I can promise you'll have something before Sept. 20 since that's the air date for the premiere... (YEAH, everyone, it's OFFICIAL! just *69* days left... haha! perfect date to announce it, isn't it?)_

_(to oc7ober): you crazy girl! see? that's because of readers like you that I have ideas like that! lol. FYI, I'm wondering if that story is not going to switch to M-rated earlier than I thought... _

_to the fierce ones, overcoming their shyness and sharing their thoughts nonetheless, via messages: I'm so touched! thank you. that simple gesture, alone, means a lot to me. and, to answer a question: for now, I don't think I will translate any other of my stories. maybe "His Last Chance" or "I'm not Giving Up", but laaaaaater..._


	3. The Restaurant: Impress Me

_Hey everyone!_

_Sorry it took me slightly longer than I'd planned to post this chapter, but I hope you won't be too angry at me for that._

_So here's the new part and as I had announced, this one's theme is: "RESTAURANT"_

_And if you enjoyed how it *tasted*, leave me a few words! __Any kind of comments are always very welcomed and much appreciated! _

* * *

**** ****Chapter 3 ****

It was a very sunny day. The deep blue sky was perfectly clear and the pavement was suffused by a warm noon light through the branches of the city trees, planted along the sidewalk; it spread bright yellow little glittering spots on the asphalt and she was counting them. One, two, ten, fifty... It was better than trying to count the cars that drove by on the street. And it was preventing her from really wondering how long it'd been since he had left her. Two minutes? Five minutes? An eternity.

Ok, so she'd done it. She had come to him. She had made a wild choice. Probably the craziest one in her life so far. Her _private_ life, that is; because in her job, she was used to dealing with impossible situations. She was used to playing with fire. But not when it came to her, personally; not when it concerned her as a woman, or her _needs_ as a woman. She'd thought... Damn! She'd thought that what she wanted was serenity, quietness. She thought she needed that to counterbalance the madness of her days at the hospital; the pressure; everything. But how much more wrong could she possibly have been? Every day, she'd tried to ignore it, the flutter in her stomach, whenever she was with him; every day she'd kept telling herself that he was toxic and that she should forget him. Just forget him.

"Sure, keep talking!" her heart was saying to her mind, "that's not an option and you know it." Yes, she knew it. She only needed to be sure... but eventually, after months, years – a life? – of struggling, what other choice did she have but to yield? To hell with the serenity! She was not that kind of woman and she was just lying to herself if she kept convincing her that she was. Of course she was scared to death when she started thinking about the millions ways it could, and would, possibly go wrong, but for the first time in ages, she was feeling alive. Alive, bold and fulfilled. And it was worth the thousands pains and hurts she'd suffered because of him before she'd finally dared step there. Into the wild.

So, while counting those beautiful little spots on the pavement, she was thinking he'd better not give her reasons to regret it. Not yet...

"_Se la signora vuole farmi l'onore di accomodarsi_."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, hoarse and so sexy when he was talking in another language. She turned around and she saw him, standing at the door of the restaurant. The _open_ door of the restaurant.

"What?" she exclaimed, both because of what he'd just said and to express her surprise to find him there, an irresistibly seductive smile drawn on his lips and his hand stretched out to her, like an invitation.

"I said: If Madam would be so kind as to come in."

She hesitated a second, staring at him incredulously.

"Please?" He added, and she let him take her hand.

He instantly yanked her inside and closed the door behind her.

"What have you done?" She asked, incapable of not sounding a little worry. "Tell me you didn't break any window and that this day is not irremediably going to end in the nearest county jail..."

"Cuddy, come on! You know it hurts that you can't trust me more than that!"

"Yeah well, sorry, but admit I have more than one good reason for that."

"Maybe, but that was the old me!"

"The _old_ you? Because there's a younger you now?" She said with a bit of teasing sarcasm.

"No, a _different_ me."

"Different how?"

"Like that different." He said, waving a key in front of her face.

"You have a key of that place? How come? I mean, you... you didn't buy a restaurant, right?"

He chuckled. She was so deliciously crazy and irrational. He just needed to say it to her.

"You're deliciously crazy and irrational." She grimaced and it made him smile. "I just happen to know the owner of that place, that's all."

Her shoulders instantly came two inches back down, as she seemed to finally allow herself to relax a little.

"Ohh... ok. One of your patients? You saved his life and now you have access to his restaurant whenever you want?"

"Not exactly."

She looked around her at the empty place. It looked cozy.

"Nice place." She said

"Come with me." He answered, grabbing her hand.

She followed, a little hesitantly, and he led her between the tables into the kitchen. Her mouth dropped open in surprise when she entered the room. It was a square installation of cooking equipments and shiny aluminum counters, with pots and pans, spoons, whisks and skimmers of all sorts, hung in perfect organized ranks above them, and in the center of the room there was a small table for two, dressed with a white tablecloth, two plates, silver cutlery, elegant crystal glasses and a candle in the middle.

"Wow! Did you hire a chef too?" She said, sounding a bit blasé but mostly trying to hide the fact that she was in fact quite impressed.

"Don't have to. Coz, _I_ am the chef."

She let out a spontaneous giggle but quickly swallowed it back when she saw he was actually serious.

"You forgot I took a cooking class last year." He clarified.

"No. Anyway, I certainly didn't forget your cooking class mate..."

"Cecile?"

"Yeah, the one who wasn't supposed to speak English." She grumbled reproachfully.

"Not my fault if, even back then, you were so obviously turned on by my sex appeal she had to phrase it out loud!"

She shook her head and chose not to answer. At this point, for a lot of reasons, among which stood her dignity, it was indeed the best choice.

"Joseph was in my cooking class too."

"Joseph?"

"He owns this place. Lent me his keys."

"In exchange for what?"

"Nothing. Joseph doesn't bargain. I just asked him and he said yes."

"Wow, is that an actual real species? It seems a little surreal to me."

"You just sounded totally disenchanted and biased." He pouted, faking to be hurt.

"Anyone who'd have known you for twenty years would!" She answered without missing a beat.

House paused and his eyes seemed to get lost in a far distance, staring blankly in front of him.

"What?"

The sound of her voice jolted him out of his nostalgic reverie and he took the few steps that were separating them and then enclosed her in his arms. He placed his hands on the small of her back, his fingers extending on the round shape of her perfect ass, and he looked down at her with a fond gaze.

"I just realized you're the longest nightmare of my life…" He teased, with a soft voice.

"A nightmare or a dream?" She asked with a coy smile.

"Duh! Definitely a nightmare! Except in some very, _very_, rare moments when you may have been a sort of acceptable compromise between hell and-"

She whacked him on the side of his arm and he let out an exaggerated outraged "ouch!" just before staring at her with a perfectly self-satisfied beam.

"I don't know about now though" He added, still smiling with plain assertiveness. "I haven't decided yet. But I definitely noticed the change of trend... with some undeniable perks..."

She rolled her eyes and wiggled inside his arms, unaware of the exquisite sensations that the resultant rubbing of her body against his was causing him.

"Like the fact that instead of just arguing with you, I can now argue with you _and_ have make-up sex afterwards!"

"That, is what's on your mind right now? You and I arguing?" She said, with a piqued face.

"No," He corrected "what's on my mind is you and I having make-up sex." He punctuated his statement with a wide suggestive grin that indeed said he was probably picturing it quite vividly.

Cuddy heaved a deep sigh of resignation and he imperceptibly tightened his grasp around her waist.

"You didn't think I was going to change, did you?"

"Well, it would have been stupid of me, wouldn't it?"

She'd said it with a smile but there was an imperceptible trace of disillusion in the depth of her eyes nonetheless; something she probably wasn't even aware of herself; something that didn't escape his scrutinizing gaze though. His face took on a serious look and he raised his hands to cup her jaws inside his palms delicately.

"Cuddy, I know I'm not the kind of man women usually dream to introduce to their parents, but I'm not a complete asshole either."

"I know."

She bit her lips and lowered her eyes, slightly embarrassed but he kept her face tilted up in his direction.

"Maybe we're gonna screw this up. But maybe we're not."

"You think that's possible?" She asked, her voice filled with hope.

"Some poetic jerk once said: 'what matters most is how well you walk through the fire.'"

"Your so-called philosopher Jagger?"

"Bukowski."

"What is it that makes your unconventional references always so spot on?"

"The fact that they're unconventional?"

"Or the fact that they're true?"

Had she thought about that last quote he'd just mentioned, or was she unconsciously referring to the time when he'd said to her "You can't always get what you want?" ... Silence filled the room again and their eyes met, as if they'd been irrepressibly mesmerized by each other; their gazes were conveying the most genuine and unhidden fondness, some ovewhelming need to express a feeling they weren't quite sure how to tame yet. But slowly, unexpectedly, irrepressibly, the walls seemed to come down a little. And it didn't matter that it was most certainly in an unconventional way, what mattered was that it did.

"Don't you want to taste my delicious cuisine?" He suddenly suggested, breaking the spell.

She took a deep breath and shivered a little, as if she'd have been awoken from a dream. Then she raised her chin up to him, with that fierce look of hers on her face and narrowed her eyes at him.

"You know it takes more than a nicely done meal to get me off-"

"Let's see." He replied, obviously willing to take up the challenge.

He let go of her and limped towards the counter, on which he put his cane; then he grabbed an apron and tied it around his waist. She chuckled and came beside him, almost touching him, resting her elbow on the counter and shifting her hips to the side in a deliberately sexy pose.

"Oh-oh! You're really taking that seriously, aren't you?" She mocked playfully.

"Shut up and clear the space!" He commanded, pushing her away with a sway of the hips.

She smiled and took one step back, then resting with her back against the edge of the counter, she put her hands on top of it and promptly pushed herself up to hop on the aluminum surface. Like that, seated face to him, close, but at an enough reasonable distance to let him have a free space on the counter, she then observed him gathering all the various ingredients he needed to cook. He was pacing from a side to the other, visibly at ease with all the weird instruments surrounding him. He looked like he was in familiar territory, fumbling into cupboards and drawers, picking pans, then grabbing some condiments, opening the fridge, taking some eggs, herbs, vegetables, cream, whatever, and then a knife, slicing, chopping; it was like a strange ballet and she was barely paying attention to what he was actually cooking, her eyes completely hypnotized by the dexterity of his hands, the attention with which he was dosing the ingredients, the thoroughness with which he was peeling, mixing, whipping, boiling and, above all, the obvious pleasure he was taking in it. He was not even limping all that much but just jumping from a counter to the other.

Her hand unconsciously landed on his cane, which was put atop the counter alongside her left leg and for the first time that day she looked at it and realized it was not the cane she was used to seeing him with. It was a black cane with a silver skull-shaped handle. She grabbed it and held it up in the air.

"What's that?"

"It's called a cane." He answered without raising his head. "People with a limp usually have one."

"I know it's a cane. I just never saw you with that one before."

"You don't like it?" He said, turning to the side and looking at her briefly.

"I would, maybe, if it was Halloween and you'd have decided to dress as a gothic adolescent fan of Evanescence."

"I'd hope you'd have said Marilyn Manson-"

"Whatever."

"I left my cane in Trenton yesterday." He said, suddenly serious and a sorrow clouded his face over for a second. "I just grabbed the first one that came to hand this morning."

She lowered her head and felt an uncomfortable stinging sensation of shame pervade her. But Trenton, and him painfully stepping into that ambulance, giving her that undecipherable stare, just before almost slamming the door shut at her, was not the kind of image she wanted to have in mind in that moment. She shook herself out to chase the disturbing thought out of her head and intensely looked at him, focusing on the _here_ and _now_, in that kitchen, where he was cooking for her. She shifted to the side, towards the stove, and dared point a finger at the pan.

"What are you frying?" She asked.

"I'm not frying, I'm deglazing."

"Yeah well... Frying, deglazing-" She puffed, waving her hand in the air as if to say there was no point in nitpicking over a cooking term.

Except there was.

"When you fry, you use oil; to deglaze you use vinegar." He started to explain, rocking the pan rhythmically above the flames to shake the brown juice inside.

"Acetic acid dissolves the caramelized residues of the seared ingredients, triggering a chemical reaction that enhances the flavor of the food; something you can't obtain if you just boil your sauce separately."

She had her hand on both sides of her lap, griping the edge of the counter, her feet dangling and swinging and, during his little speech, she had stared at him with a dropped-open mouth and a look that said she might have blanked it completely. Or maybe, it was because she was actually too impressed or irremediably won over to talk. He chose to believe it was the latter – and he was right, of course - but he didn't take advantage of it; instead he dipped his index into a a brown thick liquid in a small cup and held it compellingly in front of her mouth.

"Here, taste!"

He pushed his index between her parted lips and she licked the juice out of his fingertip.

"Hmm! What's that?"

"_Aceto balsamico di Modena_! Balsamic vinegar from Modena."

"I know balsamic vinegar."

"So you know that's not actually real vinegar."

"It's not?"

"No. It's not made out of wine, like vinegar is. It comes from the juice of an Italian famous grape, _il Trebbiano_. Correction! Not the juice, the _must_ of the grape, which actually doesn't produce a liquid but a sap, with a sweet and sour taste, far less acid than vinegar." He dipped his finger in the liquid again and licked it with a loud sucking noise, looking at her "Hmm, you felt it too?"

She nodded and smiled, not really knowing at this point if she should just jump him right away for being so incredibly sexy when he was passionately explaining to her things she would have forgotten the next day, or if she should rather slap him to shut him up so that he would stop gloating his annoying knowledge at her face like that. Hesitation made her nervous so to close the raging debate in her head she grabbed him decidedly by his tee-shirt sleeve and yanked him toward her. He toppled a little and landed between her legs, instantly adjusting his position and resting his hands on her hips. She cupped his face and avidly leaned down to kiss him.

He still tasted like vinegar and she planted her teeth in his buds, nibbling at his tongue and sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. She felt his knuckles digging into her flesh and she clearly perceived the change of rhythm in his breath. She decided she'd better end it right away when she felt her legs irrepressible closing in around his waist, almost on their own. She broke away from his lips and rested her forehead against his.

"I'm hungry." She said, panting.

"Sure you are!" He let go of her hips and took a step aside to let her jump off the counter. "Go sit down. It'll be ready in five minutes."

He quite instinctively offered his hand to help her go down and she quite unconsciously accepted it; then she landed on the floor next to him. _Real close_. His pupils were undeniably dilated and she had to assume hers probably were too... It was purely animal, it had to be only that she told herself, frightened by the violence of the successive waves of lust she felt sizzling inside her. Dammit! She could feel them shaking her body from head to toe. And she knew he was surely feeling the same because it was impossible to deny... How on earth could she possibly have managed to deny it all this time? ...

The sound of the oven timer suddenly echoed in the kitchen and she jumped a little, while he dropped her hand and promptly seized a dish towel.

"Five minutes." He groaned, short of breath, and he limped towards the oven.

She reluctantly complied and sat down at the table, as an incredibly appetizing smell of fresh baked bread with roasted taste of... something else... filled her nostrils. She watched him cautiously put the hot dish on the counter and then next, pour a preparation he'd kept in a bowl into a spluttering pan. A few minutes later, he limped towards the table to join her, holding a large plate in each hand.

He came behind her and bent over her shoulder to put the plates down ceremoniously, then he walked round the table and took a sit in front of her.

"That's an omelette." She remarked.

He rolled his eyes and struck a match to light the candle.

"Well if you want to call it _that_!" He exclaimed extravagantly, while at the same time stretching his hand to her face and putting the match under her mouth. She blew it out mechanically and he put it down in an ashtray. "This, is a salted zabaglione, perfumed with basil infused in balsamic vinegar." He then enounced solemnly.

Which instantly shut down any possible attempts at a sarcastic comeback she could have thought of. So instead, she swallowed back her saliva, licked her bottom lip and focused on the other plate.

"And that? I suppose that if I say it's bread, you're gonna tell me it's not and replace it with another extravagant name?"

"No. Cuz it's bread." He said to tease her. She pouted conspicuously at him with an upset grimace that made him chuckle. "But if you really insist, actually it's 'ciabatta with truffle juice and dried tomatoes'."

She became dangerously unaware of her slightly tilting her head to the side and staring at him with an almost drooling mouth. He, on the other hand, perfectly took note and straightened up proudly in his chair.

"Eat while it's still hot." He ordered, beaming inside and out.

She sucked in a sharp breath and blinked back to earth. He served them both a generous portion and watched her swallow her first bite with eager expectation.

"Hmm!" She first moaned with surprise, "Hmmmm" she then moaned in delight, slouching down in her chair. She stuck the fork out of her mouth and widened her eyes with admiration. "Wow! This is good! _You're_ good!"

She had said that with an unconscious look of possessiveness, which, even though they were alone in the room had also, from then on, just undeniably and quite strongly claimed him as _her_ man for every other woman to register. It instantly filled his brain with a flood of pure endorphins. He watched her greedily grabbed the ciabatta and take a piece that she instantly almost shoved into her mouth, moaning again and closing her eyes, inwardly struck with another wave of gustatory bliss.

"Oh fuck! It tastes too good!" She exclaimed, incapable of holding her laughter.

Seated in front of her and looking at her laughing without restraint and eating ravenously, there were now and undoubtedly more than a few chances that he would never forgive that day until at least a very, very, long time.

(...)

* * *

_**A/N**_

_I deeply apologize to the ones who were expecting some M-rated switch at this point, I feel I've mislead them to think it would…_

_To be honest, when I started writing this chapter, that was something I was considering indeed, but then, I couldn't really resigned myself to break the rhythm of the "cooking" flow just to add some gratuitous sex in the middle of it._

_And I kinda like it how it is. I hope you do too…_

_BUT! __Anyway, you know me, right? At least some of you do, and so you know that it's never a long time before my Huddy sex muse starts tickling me again, so I cannot tell you when, but I sure can promise you that this story will NOT end with a T rate…_

_And, next chapter's theme will be…?_

_BEACH! Yay!_

_I hope to be able to post it in a few days._

_enjoy life! ~ maya_


	4. The Restaurant: To Me Neither

_Hi everyone!_

_Here's the new chapter._

_And a WARNING! __I won't reveal what it's all about, but I think you'll guess if I tell you that THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT SWITCHED THIS STORY INTO __**M-RATED**__! :)_

_Ooooohh… so chop, chop you! just read and find out why! (as if you didn't already know… haha)_

* * *

**** C****hapter 4 ****

"You're quite impressed with yourself right now, aren't you?" She said, sipping her red wine slowly and scrutinizing him from across the table.

"Duh, sure! I just found out that my cuisine offered me another option. Good to know."

"Another option for what?" She asked, suspiciously.

"Set you off into orgasmic mode."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hmm, it's goooooood, Hmmmmm yeah, you're gooooood. Ohhh, yes! Give me moarrr…" He mimicked exaggeratedly.

She pursed her lips, trying hard not to smile, but the corners of her lips just wouldn't stay still: she looked at him, grinning.

"You're insane." She accused, pouting.

"One of the many qualities that make me irresistible."

They exchanged a long, silent, stare and the temperature in the kitchen rose up a notch. Cuddy cleared her throat.

"Thank you. That was delicious." Her voice was low, almost embarrassed.

Surprisingly, House didn't lay it on but just raised his glass and nodded to her. One of the lessons he'd learned during the past year was that sometimes, just being humble about things could make him feel good all the same. And the events of the last hours were proving to be a nice example of that.

"Joseph makes an honorable cuisine too. We should come back and have dinner here sometime." He said, putting his glass down and hoping he'd sounded casual enough not to make a big deal out of it.

In that very moment, still gradually adjusting to his new reality, future remained a too much puzzling concept for him to know what to make out of it already. He was sure about wanting to try it though, and he thought that throwing harmless little hints of that certainty once in a while wouldn't hurt anybody. In the depth of her eyes, he saw she had received the message and she shyly approved with a smile. He could also recognize that exact same puzzlement he was feeling, clearly saying that she hadn't quite assessed all the consequences of the outburst that had led her to him a few hours earlier and it touched him. Somehow, it made him be her reckless impulse, her irrational choice, her unstoppable need. Occasionally, just thinking about it, it could give him enough confidence to forget to ask himself questions.

Just like now.

He stood up and walked to her side of the table. She looked up at him, following him with an interrogative gaze but when he stopped, just inches away from her shoulder, she knew. He didn't even have to reach out his hand for her. She stood up too and she let him take her in his arms and gently but compellingly push her against the nearest counter. Instinct commended her to expose her body at a higher level for him so she hopped on the surface and spread her legs to make enough room inside for him to get closer. He instantly took that one small step there and nestled against her hips, leisurely stroking her thighs with the palms of his hands.

There was something, mighty and overwhelming in the way he had been silently claiming her since the moment when she'd surrendered to him the night before, which was almost made of the energy of despair. Each time he was touching her with this sort of amazed delicacy, it left her breathless and unable to speak. It was like watching that wave approaching and knowing it would submerge you, but being unable to move at the same time. He slowly unbuttoned her cardigan, and spread the tails open before leaning down and burying his face in the low-cut cleavage of her tee-shirt. He took a long, deep, wobbling breath and rubbed his nose onto her skin and it struck her with an irrational feeling of helplessness, as if she'd become suddenly both aware of the power she had on him and how far it could go if she would decide to use it.

And it frightened her.

Simultaneously, and fortunately for the perfect equilibrium of their overpowering outburst toward each other, she was also feeling absolutely weak under his touch; so her brain just gave up thinking and she threw her head back, stretching her neck and offering her skin to the caress of his lips.

He slid his hands underneath the flimsy cloth of her tee-shirt and climbed up, irresistibly sweeping the fabric along in the process until she felt compelled to lift her arms up. She was becoming more and more short of breath and she let him peel her off her top, feeling a little dizzy and undeniably turned on. But it was very wrong. Very wrong to be sitting there in an unknown kitchen and let him undress her like he was. She inwardly prayed that he would, at some point, obey some rule of decency or any _reasonable_ limit, if such concept existed, because she knew she was way past that stage already and she would be incapable of drawing any line and stop him if he decided to go all the way with this. Besides, while he was unhooking her bra, she found herself evaluating their options, considering that she was wearing pants and that he wouldn't be able to stand on his bad leg...

Not even a day had passed and she _knew_ she was a different woman already. No. Actually not a different woman, she was only becoming herself again; that's what was happening to her: she'd found herself again in the bravado of her choice. And there were no boundaries that she wouldn't find the strength to cross for him; she could do just anything, and be completely fearless about it.

She felt the thin straps of her bra slowly sliding along her arms and then she saw him putting it beside her lap, very cautiously, as if he was manipulating porcelain. Then before she could anticipate his next move, he rested his hands on both sides of her bare waist and bent over to her left breast. Against her skin, she thought she heard him groan something but he was already sucking the areola inside his mouth, grazing her hard, erect nipple with his teeth and she forgot to care. She grabbed a full strand of his hair in the back of his neck and pulled him closer, almost smothering him between her breasts. He tightened his grip and clawed stronger at her flesh and she moaned lasciviously, while her legs enclosed him possessively, imprisoning him in her rising lust, commanding to be soothed.

The rubbing sensation of his stubble on the softness of her ivory skin was driving her crazy and the incredible way with which he was masterfully alternating gentle licking and kissing with teasing biting and nibbling even more. But at the same time, he was pushing her backwards, slowly but surely, and she became well aware of her falling down, passively, and her helplessness suddenly hit her. Because she wanted to undress him too. She wanted to feel his bare skin. And the wetness between her thighs silently shouted at her that she now also irremediably wanted something more than only kisses, no matter how truly sweet – and maybe even enthralling - his might have been indeed. Already at the apex of her arousal, she wanted something raw and sexual; so before she would lose her balance and he would become out of reach, she promptly griped his jeans loops in a sort of reflex move to prop herself up and she immediately started to work on his belt buckle, untying it with sheer force and impressive keenness. His response to her sudden agitation was to seize her wrists strongly, and pull them away from his jeans belt with sureness.

"Slow down!" He commanded, straightening up and studying her gaze, filled with desire and impatience "Unless you stop me, we _are_ going there. There's no need to rush this. I want to take my time. And I want _you_ to take your time. I promise to give you all the quickies you want too when you'll need some, but _not now_. Now is not going to be a quick fuck. So just relax. And let me do this."

She gasped and gulped audibly, feeling the flush invading her face. She stared at him, still tensed for another few seconds, hearing the loud thudding sound of her heartbeats under her ribs, overcome by the stabbing sensation of desire in her womb, but then she stopped fidgeting. She unwound. Her shoulders imperceptibly loosened and the trembling of her legs finally subsided.

"Good. Now lie down." He instructed with a hoarse voice.

Her eyes riveted to his, and her wrists still inside his hands, she let him guide her down and sucked in a sharp breath when the sensation of the cold aluminum surface first made contact with her bare skin. He instantly froze and even pulled her up a little but she resisted and finished stretching her back onto the kitchen counter completely.

"It's a bit cold." She said, "But it's ok."

He smiled at her and, careful not to show her why he was doing it, he shifted forwards and rested his body weight against the edge of the counter in the empty space she had just left when she'd laid down. He needed to ease the throbbing sensation in his bad leg a little, but he didn't want her to notice that the pain was bothering him. It would have been easier to pop two Ibuprofen but he wasn't sure that it would not sent her into worrying mode, killing the precious moment he had worked hard to build, and he didn't want that. What he had no idea of was that she would be the one taking him off guard, with the most incredibly non-judgmental statement he could have dreamed to hear from her.

"I haven't seen you take Ibuprofen since you've joined me this morning." She said, lifting her head up a little to look at him, "And it's been more than three hours already. Don't you need your pills now?"

Did she realize how amazing she was? Did she at least know that despite her gorgeous body, her beautiful features, her incredible sex appeal, she was also unique in so many other ways? She was there, voluptuously stretched out, bare chest, on that metallic kitchen counter, her erect nipples pointed towards the ceiling, the plumpness of her breasts an almost illegal invitation to passionate caresses and she was concerned _for him_. But the marvel of it was that, while she'd said it, she had not sounded maternal, or worried, or condescending; she'd just been perfectly casual, just a perfect way of saying "I care for you" but without suffocating him with unnecessary concern. Yes, unique, that's what she really was.

"If you don't mind then."

She had his hand in hers and she brought it to her lips to put a soft kiss in the hollow of his wrist.

"No, go on."

The pills were in his backpack, the backpack at the bottom of the table. He limped swiftly to it, took the bottle and he heard her kick her shoes off. It made a loud thud on the tiled floor when they fell. He swallowed dry two pills, gave a quick side glance in her direction and grabbed one of the chairs with him, before limping back to her. He put the chair beside him, not too far, so that it'd remain close by whenever it would come in handy – and he knew a lot of ways why it could – then he leaned down to pick up her shoes. He put them on the counter and looked at her with an intoxicating smile.

"Dammit woman, don't take these off!" He said, accusingly, "Are you not aware of men's fantasies at all?"

She puffed and propped herself up on her elbows. The moment had flown away a little while he'd left her to take his pills and she was now looking a bit disappointed.

"So that's what it is? I'm just a sex object to you?"

"A really stupid one if that's what you think."

He seized the waistband of her pants and unbuttoned it. She gasped and threw her head back. When he started to unzip it, she lay back down and he saw a shiver run through her abdomen that left goose bumps on her skin.

"Cuz you're not just sexy. You're sexy _and_ smart." He declared with a husky voice, sliding her pants down slowly along her legs and taking them off. She wore white panties that matched her bra. They weren't sophisticated but he thought she looked simply beautiful, just wearing them, lying offered on that counter. He seized one of her calves and stroked it leisurely, lingering his touch on the delicate bones of her ankle and tickling the sole of her foot with his fingertips. She jolted and gasped again and he slipped her foot into her shoe.

"And you know where this is going, right?" He added, almost whispering, putting the other shoe on her other foot.

When she had the black high heels on again, he bent over to the side of the counter and grabbed something behind her. She slithered to follow the motion of his hand with her eyes; "Oh God!" were the only two coherent words she managed to utter when she saw what he had taken. A can. Of whipped cream.

"I think I've earned a dessert." He told her, shaking the bottle vigorously above her. He removed the cap and put the nozzle into his mouth. When he pressed it, the 'pssschtt' made her jump and she unconsciously licked her lips in sync with him, watching him swallow the cream tantalizingly. He then leaned down and brought the nozzle an inch far from her lips. She opened her mouth and he pressed the can to pour some white mousse on her tongue. She swallowed the whipped cream and he covered her mouth with his, licking the corner of her lips and mixing the sweetened taste of his saliva with hers.

"Mind if I taste a bit of this on you?" He asked and she shook her head 'no', incapable of articulating even that simple one syllable word, rendered completely breathless by the rising heat she was feeling in every square inch of her skin.

She could have lain on a burning stove right in that moment; for all she knew, it would not have made a great difference, because the coolness of the metal under her was something her body had completely blanked out. He leaned down to her belly and first kissed her navel, just brushing it lightly with his lips, rubbing his nose along her skin and letting the up and down waves of her abdomen cradle him gently. Then, at a most unexpected moment, he suddenly replaced his mouth with the nozzle of the can and spread a little mound of cream on her midriff. She took in a sharp breath and he stuck out his tongue, licking her and the cream all together in one sensual mouth stroke.

He'd started with her abdomen, a place he thought was innocent and neutral but there were so many other enthralling spots he was dreaming to explore. He discovered with wonderment that the taste of whipped cream itself changed depending on the location where he would apply it. On her midriff, it tasted like honey, on her nipples like warm milk, on her shoulders, he recognized lemon, and in the crook of her neck it became a little salty. The inner sides of her thighs were warm and they tasted like sin could have tasted, something sweet and sour, oddly similar to balsamic vinegar. He couldn't get enough of her multiple flavors, mixed with the sweetened taste of the cream; and each time he was wiping down her skin with his tongue, sporadically nibbling at her flesh here and there, it made her moans grow louder and her body started to squirm like a worm under him, the sound of her panting inexorably becoming the rawest turn-on he'd experienced in a long time.

His cock was aching inside his boxers, hard like a stiff, throbbing with desire. But there was another area where he wanted to taste her first before he would be no longer able to hold it. He put the can down and seized the hems of her panties.

"House, no-"

"Don't say no to me", He blew along the skin her thigh "you'll have plenty occasions to say it later with the numerous, more than offending, good reasons I am inevitably going to give you. But not this one, no. Besides, you know you want it too."

He straightened up to look at her. She had little pearls of sweat on her forehead, and her chest was going up and down rapidly, as if she'd just run a race. She was wheezing and when their eyes met, the lust he saw in her pupils was more explicit than any kind of proof he'd have needed to go on. Of course she wanted this. 'No' was only a short-circuiting inside her mind, a misconstrued outcome lost in the translation of what her emotional wants had claimed over the rationality of her brain. A glitch in the covetousness of her desire.

He slid her panties down her legs swiftly, not wasting one more second before he could access the pith of her savor. While leaning forward to come down to the level of her sex, he thought that the pills of Ibuprofen he'd taken minutes before were kicking in just in the most appropriate moment. He grabbed her legs and hoisted her up a little, placing her thighs astride his shoulders on both sides of his head and putting his hands under her ass cheeks to keep her up, and then he crashed down into her, drinking in her tang. Her lips were swollen and wet and she smelled like lust. Unrestrained and wholly liberated lust.

He sucked her clit with brisk, hearty, circling tongue strokes and it sent instant electric waves into her body, making her knees buckle, and her hips arching up toward his face, in successive, erratic, jolts, while her moans began to sound more and more like sensual cries for mercy, so exhilarating and powerful, it almost made him come inside his boxers. When the demanding movements of her hips and legs claimed more than the sensation of his lips on her, he added the touch of his hand and slid one finger inside her juicy core. That sole move itself almost threw her over the edge within the first inch. He moved in and out of her a few more times but it took less than a minute before all her muscles started to quiver, and her hands griped at his shoulders ferociously, conveying all the violence of her orgasm within the force of an uncontrollable reaction that shook her whole body. After a few more shuddering waves, he felt her relax against him. He put her down on the counter again, slowly, careful not to drop her roughly on the hard surface and he traced a line of kisses, from her hipbone to her face, slowly revisiting every place of her body with his mouth, learning new fragrances, detecting new flavors, until he met her lips, thrusting his tongue still tasting like her sex between her teeth and kissing her with infinite tenderness.

He straightened up bringing her with him to a sitting position and he looked at her, silently, with eyes full of _encore_ expectations. Words were unnecessary at this point, for they had reached a level of connection that was almost telepathic. House stepped back and without letting go of her gaze, he groped around for the chair behind him, pulling it toward him and seating down, while she, perfectly comprehending what he wanted, got off the counter and came close to him. He had started to unbutton his jeans himself, but, standing naked in front of him, she took his impatient hands away from his belt and took over. She unzipped him and slid his jeans down his thighs, along with his boxers, liberating his hard throbbing member before she straddled him with poise. He leaned down against the chair backrest and put his hands on her waist, while she reached out for his cock and guided him inside her. She was more than open and wet for him already and he easily filled her with all his length in one steady thrust when she plummeted into him. She gasped and held her breath when the tip of his shaft reached the depth of her core. He cradled her face inside his hands, forcing her to keep her gaze on him, staring at her grey irises, drowning in their enthralling lights and pulling her down to kiss her.

She put her hands on his shoulders for leverage and she began to rock her hips, back and forth, slowly, then up and down, faster, until the rising wave of desire in his body commanded him to grip her ass to crash her down harder into him and make the feel of his thrusts more vivid and powerful for both of them. She nose-dived in his neck and bit his warm skin and he dug his knuckles in her ass, planting his nails in her flesh, eliciting roars of pleasure from the depth of her throat and increasing her need of speeding the rhythm of her sways even more, until he could feel her inner walls tightening and throbbing around his length, milking his juice and releasing his orgasm with sheer force.

He wrapped his arms as tight as he could around her waist, squashing her against him and burying his face between her breasts, waiting for his rasping breaths to slow down, while she combed his hair with her fingers and gently cradled him into her embrace. For a timeless moment they remained silent, enjoying their afterglow, and after a while, Cuddy slowly slid out of him and got up the chair.

"Restrooms?" She asked, with an adorable flush on her glowing face.

He pointed a direction to her with his chin; she gathered her clothes and left the room, walking naked in her heels, holding her clothings rolled into a ball against her chest and swaying her ass like a cat. He followed her with his eyes until she was no longer at sight, a radiant fulfilled smile on his lips.

Moments later, dressed again, fresh and dolled up, she reappeared in the kitchen as he was finishing cleaning and putting everything back in place. She came behind him and enfolded him in her arms, resting her head between his shoulder blades and taking a deep breath, filled with fullness. He turned around to face her and put his hands on the small of her back.

"You ok?"

"Yeah." She answered in a low voice, still hoarse with desire.

He smiled.

"You never did it like that in a kitchen, did you?"

She hesitated just a second too long.

"Sure I did."

"No you didn't." she pouted, visibly upset. "I'm not talking about a quick lay on your kitchen table. I'm talking about a place like here, in a restaurant."

"Well then of course! How am I supposed to have sex in the kitchen of a restaurant? The ones I go to are usually full of cooks when I'm there! That's why it's called a restaurant!"

"See? That's what I'm saying. It never happened to you before."

"Not like that, no."

"Say it."

"What?"

"That it never happened to you before."

"Why?"

He intensely stared at her and his silence was worth a million compelling commands.

"It never happened to me before." She admitted, raising her chin up.

"To me neither."

"What?" She said, taken aback.

"I've never had sex in the empty kitchen of a restaurant before either." He explained, planting his blue eyes into hers, a shameless, confident, smile on his lips, oddly savoring his confession for a reason she was not anticipating at all: "This, was both our first time." He went on, "For you and for me. So this, is ours now."

He beamed, as much genuinely proud of himself as the little boy who claims that the shell he's just found on the beach is his inestimable treasure would have. It radiated on her and she looked up at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise, awestruck, and with a look on her face that most likely resembled the first glimmers of glee.

* * *

**_A/N_**

_First, a huge THANK YOU to all of you for your lovely wonderful reviews, your comments, your messages and all the love you send me! thank you to all of you who have added this story, or me into their list of favs! I'm deeply touched and flattered!_

_now, I know, I said in the previous chapter that the next one (so this one) would be BEACH related and it isn't. obviously..._

_However, I have good excuses (I hope!) for making it still be "RESTAURANT" located… don't I? :)_

_Well anyway, this time, it's sure: next chapter's theme will REALLY be beach._

_So tell me, how much do you want me to go on with this?_

_thank you for reading! comments, opinions or suggestions are much appreciated! ~ maya_


	5. The Beach:There's Wind Where We're Going

_Hi everyone!_

_Here's a new chapter!_

_As promised this one will be located at the beach. But not right away… first our two lovebirds need to say goodbye to the restaurant!_

* * *

**** Chapter ****5 ****

When everything looked all shiny again, they left the kitchen and walked through the empty restaurant hand in hand to sneak out through the back door, where House had first gotten in. In the middle of the room, Cuddy suddenly stopped and held back his hand. He looked at her, while she scanned the room, almost with a trace of melancholy on her face and he took a deep breath.

"So many memories already." He stated in a sigh.

"What? You said that was the first time that... Hey! Did you bring a lot of women here before?"

"Are you jealous?" His voice sounded amused.

"No. I'm just asking."

"Oh-oh, you're _so_ jealous. But it's ok. I think it makes you look hotter. No, wait! Technically, it makes _me_ look hotter. Well either way, I totally dig this!"

"So?" She refocused.

"Not really."

"Not really?" She repeated and there undeniably was a "please elaborate" underneath that question mark.

"You've asked me if I brought a lot of women here before and the answer's 'no'." He took a deliberate pause. "But once, I came here with a tranny though."

"O-kay, aaaand now, I don't wanna know." She said, frantically waving her hand in front of her face as if it would have helped brush away the disturbing visual.

"I had a good reason. I did it to piss off Sam. She had come up with that stupid idea that she and I should sort of bond for the love of Wilson, like we'd have signed a non aggression pact or something."

"Poor woman, obviously she was completely clueless."

"Well the thing is _she_ actually had a great time. As it turned out, _my_ date and she grew up in the same neighborhood!"

"Ouch! But what can you do? Seriously, if even geography is against you-" She mocked him with a teasing chuckle.

He wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes theatrically.

"Yeah, even so, Wilson did propose to me in that restaurant, not to her!" He conspicuously fluttered his eyelids, faking to be overcome by emotions.

Cuddy's jaws dropped and she stared at him dumbfounded.

"I mean before Sam came back in his life and caught him in her web, obviously! And you know, in hindsight, that was a sweet moment... in an 'if-you'll-ever-do-that-again-I'll-have-to-kill-you' totally twisted kind of way."

"Wow! What the hell have you done this past year?" She exclaimed, spontaneously.

She instantly felt House's fingers clutching around her hand tighter and her breath hitched. He turned to the side to look at her and, before she could say anything, he stared into her already sorry grey eyes with forgiveness. He wasn't going to demand her to be careful about every word or thought she would have. And he knew slips of the tongue would be inevitable. Just like he knew some of them would certainly hurt. Like that last one did.

"Lots of things." He answered in a tone, as much neutral as his racing heart allowed him to fake it, "Detoxing, camping out at Wilson's, saving lives, singing in karaoke and, my favorite part: screwing with you, in _every_ sense of the word-"

She bit her lips and came close to him, touching his stubble with her hand and cradling his jaw inside her palm.

"And taking cooking classes." She added to the list. He nodded and smiled gratefully for subtly bringing them back to the place they were. "Thank Joseph for the key. I don't know him but what he did was nice."

"Bah! No need to make a big fuss about it. I think the kitchen security camera footages would be good enough a thanking present for him."

Cuddy instantly stopped breathing and the next second, her legs gave way under her, as if she'd suddenly become liquid. House's eyebrows went up in an incredulous arch, stunned by her reaction.

"That was a joke." He said, at the same time visibly delighted to have made her so completely freaked out.

Ignoring his comment, she let go of his hand and started to walk back toward the kitchen, in the determined pace of a warrior that would have made Lara Croft green with envy. As he was picturing it, if he didn't manage to stop her, it would only take minutes before she would start to drill holes in the walls with her own nails to dig up the so called cameras herself.

"Cuddy, come on! There are NO cameras." He called her, under stressing the negative part of his sentence.

She stopped dead in her tracks and whisked around.

"Are you sure?" She asked, still doubtful.

Gee! That was too tempting.

"Hmm-no?" He couldn't help but smile.

"You're not serious, right?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him menacingly.

"Of course I'm not!" He chuckled, "Besides, if there actually was a security camera, the tape would be in my backpack right now!"

"You're sick." She declared, coming back toward him.

"Oh yeah, that's me! Cuz, you storming back in there like you were about to turn the place upside down was totally normal?"

"I was not!" She refuted, in an outraged high pitched voice.

"You were. And you should have seen your face by the way."

He mimicked her panic-stricken face with the kind of extreme emphasis only he could put into it but the moment he started, she shook her head disapprovingly and walked past him briskly, continuing her way towards the exit and conspicuously ignoring him in the process.

"That was completely worth it." He whispered to himself, catching her up.

# # # # #

Outside, though less high, the sun was still bright. They walked to the bike and House put his backpack on the saddle. Cuddy took a deep breath and looked at him with a smile.

"It was great." She said.

"Who said the day was over?"

She almost instinctively checked her watch. He widened his eyes and stared at her accusingly.

"Are you getting bored with me?"

"No! Of course I'm not! This... has been a very good day so far, I love it, but-"

He sighed.

"Marina's doing fine and Rachel is ok."

She shifted from foot to foot nervously. He studied her, biting her lips, struggling hard to hold back this irrepressible maternal – mostly control-freak – need to check that was pervading her, but she did it in such a touching way, he couldn't help it.

"Here! Call if you want." He groaned, putting out his cell.

She didn't wait to be asked twice and snatched the phone out of his hand.

"Press one." He added mechanically.

She froze and looked up at him with a fond smile.

"Aww, you have me on speed dial?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe how handy it is when the patient is dying and I need your green light to go on with the procedure that will save his life."

She let out a quiet laugh.

"Sure, as if you'd ever bother calling me first for that!" She paused and challenged him with a killing gaze. "You have me on speed dial." She repeated, "And I'm your number one."

"That's just a phone. No big deal!" He replied, averting his eyes.

Obviously, the woman didn't know the basic rule of poker: never go all in unless you're absolutely sure, either that your adversary swallowed your bluff or that you had the upper hand. Otherwise, you'd end up naked in the street, with your heart ripped off your chest. But of course, in those circumstances, it had nothing to do with bluffing at all, however he still wasn't sure of the kind of cards he really had in hands yet either so he couldn't let her call on him that easily...

She had taken a few steps away to make her call and he was looking at her, waving her hands in the air and talking, smiling, nodding and twiddling with a strand of hair, twirling it around her finger. She was so beautiful. Despite the many very vivid proves he'd gotten that it was real, a small part of him still strangely had a hard time believing it was. That was there, and he couldn't really put his finger on it, but there was something... He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Here, and now" he repeated to himself, "seize the here and now..."

When he opened his eyes again, she had joined him and she was handing him his cell phone.

"Something's wrong?" He said, quite immediately noticing the change in her features.

She looked down, just like people usually do when they stupidly think it will make the question disappear, or them, and that it will consequently magically solve their problem.

"No."

"Look at me."

She looked up and sighed.

"What? Is there a problem with Rachel?"

"No, she's fine."

"Then what is it?"

She sighed again. "It's Lucas."

"What about him?" He asked, instantly stiffening.

"Nothing. It's just that... Marina said... he was there earlier today to take his stuff, and she didn't really know what to do..."

House clenched his jaws and mentally forced himself to slowly count backwards, starting from twenty. At eleven, he decided it was pointless because one, it didn't unnerve him and two, it didn't appease her either.

"And? What did you say?" He asked with a soft voice.

"I... I said that it was ok... That Lucas didn't live there anymore." She gulped, embarrassed. Obviously that was something she'd have rather avoided doing.

House never doubted that she was fierce and bold but, at the same time, she was sometimes hemmed in a train of stupid social codes that dictated her what should be expected from a woman in her position and apparently, being forced to tell her babysitter that the man she was about to consider as her daughter step-dad was not "living in her house" anymore was definitely not something on top of her list. He wanted to tell her to not give a damn. Yes, she'd sent Lucas packing, but there was no reason to dwell on this, or feel guilty about it, with Marina or anybody else for that matter. It was her life. She was living it the way she'd decided. And she'd decided she didn't want Lucas. So what?

_So what?_

The buzz started in his ears again and he suddenly realized that he was still clenching his jaws and that it was now aching. There were a million things he wanted to say. So many things he _could say_. Instead he just stared at her, and tried to smile. It was ok. They were ok. Cuddy took a deep breath and touched the side of his arm gently.

"What's next?" She asked.

It instantly invigorated him, and his smiled widened. In one swift jump, he moved beside his bike, grabbed his backpack and fumbled inside it.

"Here, I got that for you!" He said, brandishing a scarf.

"What's that?"

"Duh! Can't you see by yourself? That's a scarf!"

"Why did you get me a scarf?" She asked intrigued.

"Because there's wind where we're going. And you'd hate it – and me consequently – if you caught a cold."

He took his helmet and put it on.

"Wind? Where are we going?"

"You ask way too many questions!" He stated dismissevely. "Now put that scarf on and get on that bike!"

She put her hand on her hip and took a second to study him before she grabbed the silky cloth and wrapped it around her neck. She got on the bike and snuggled up against him. He could take her anywhere anyway. Suddenly it seemed to her that any place but her home would be just perfect.

# # # # #

"The ocean!" She exclaimed, when they stopped later on a road overhanging a desert beach.

"You like it?"

She let out a quiet laugh.

"I love the ocean."

"I know."

"Of course you know." She said smiling.

The sky was clear and the sun still shining. The air was warm and soft. Despite House's warning, the wind wasn't blowing too strongly. There was just a gentle breeze that was playing with the ends of her scarf making them float in the air like a flag; like a black and white pirate flag. House spotted a trunk a few yards away. He took his jacket off and pointed in its direction with his cane.

"There!" He said and he started limping in the sand.

She swiftly took her shoes off and ran bare foot after him to catch up with him. Once there, House dropped his backpack, jacket and cane, while she sat on the trunk. He kneeled down in the sand next to her and picked up a stick that was lying there. He played with it in the sand, tracing winding lines, the roar of the ocean waves blowing in the wind and coming towards them.

"How do you know that beach?" She asked, breaking the silent between them. "It's not the nearest beach from Princeton."

"Precisely." He said, "Found it one day when I was specifically looking for a place where I would be alone, and far from Princeton."

"Oh." She bit her lips, a guilty look clouding her beautiful face over.

"After my dad died." He clarified, as if he'd read her thoughts. "Not everything is about you, you know!"

She felt stupid for a second. Of course, why would she automatically assume that she was responsible for every miserable moment in his life? That was completely absurd! And yet, the thought had crossed her mind. There were some things she'd done this past year and even before that, which she knew had hurt him. She was not trying to pretend it didn't happen but she was not proud of herself either and she still had to reconcile with the idea that what was in the past was in the past; even if letting go was something her guilt was finding hard to do at the moment.

Suddenly, House's cell rang and it made them both jump in surprise. He fished the phone out of his jeans pocket and checked the caller ID.

"Wilson." He announced flatly, as if it was something highly predictable.

She shrugged. "Pick up!"

He did and instantly, the impatient voice of the oncologist resonated in the receiver.

"House? What are you doing?"

"I'm answering your call obviously!"

"Don't be stupid-"

"I'm not stu-"

"I stopped by at your place. You're not at home."

"Wow! Your sense of observation is breathtaking Wilson! I always knew there had to be a reason why you never miss one cancer cell on the X-rays of your patients-"

"Your bathroom mirror is gone."

"Yeah, had a sudden Dorian Gray moment-"

"House? Are you ok?"

"I'm great!"

"You didn't show at work today."

"Cuddy gave me the day off."

"You saw Cuddy?"

"Well, yeah! Spent the whole night with her."

"I'm sorry. Foreman told me."

"What? Foreman told you... what?"

"About your patient. He said she was dead when the ambulance arrived."

House clutched his cell phone tighter and closed his eyes for a split second.

"Fat embolism. That's sad. But it happens."

"Are you sure you ok?"

"You've asked me that question 30 seconds ago. So unless a big rock just dropped from the sky and fell on me while we're talking, I think the answer's still yes. Wilson please, stop worrying for me like you're my mom, you'll end up with a stomach ulcer."

"Cuddy's not at work either."

"And?" His breath hitched imperceptibly, "She's the boss you know. She can play hooky whenever she wants. She doesn't have to ask your permission."

"That's weird."

"What? The fact that she's not at work or the fact that she didn't ask your permission? You know we had a real crappy night, well... not _all_ crappy but-"

He turned his head towards the trunk on which Cuddy was seated and locked eyes with her. She had tied the scarf around her skull, like a pirate, and she looked back at him with a fond smile, her hand playing with the loose ends of the silky fabric that were streaming in the wind.

"No. I mean, Bonnie called me. She said Cuddy cancelled her visit."

House wasn't really paying attention anymore. The only thing he could focus on was the gorgeous woman who was looking at him, and suddenly nothing else mattered except the uncontainable need to be near her and hold her in his arms he felt rising inside him.

"About the house she wanted to buy." Wilson carried on, puzzled by House's silence and feeling oddly forced to explain himself.

"Oh yeah, sure! Good."

"Good? What do you mean g_ood_? That's all you have to say about this? House, don't you find it strange that Cuddy suddenly called off a project she's been trying to finalize for months?"

"Bah! Bonnie's a terrible realtor. Maybe Cuddy finally realized that if she wanted to have a nice place to live, she shouldn't ask your ex to find it for her."

"Yes but-"

"Wilson!" House exclaimed, now furiously needing to cut this conversation short, "You know, that's great! Perfect! Keep looking for more clues and... Call me back!" He reeled off in one breath, "I need to hang up now. I don't have any more coin... we're gonna be cut... sorry, ok... Bye!"

And he slid his cell phone shut. On the other end of the line, Wilson stared at the receiver with a "what the hell?" dazed expression. Then he hung up, shaking his head to fight the urge of finding some rational explanations to that incomprehensible conversation he just had.

"That was mature." Cuddy said, deadpan.

"Maturity is not my trademark."

"Oh! And what is?"

"Uhmm," House faked to give it a serious thought, "irresistible, highly addictive, assholery."

"That's not even a real word."

"Ahh see? That's why it's a trademark. It's mine. No one else has it; and I've elevated it to the status of Art."

She smiled and he joined her near the trunk, sitting down on the sand and resting his back against the wood.

"Everyone wants to be nice; because they think niceness is what makes them look attractive. But that's a lie.

"It is?"

"Of course! Look at you for example-"

"What about me?" She asked, stiffening.

He turned his head to the side and looked up at her over his shoulder.

"You're not nice."

"Thank you." She said with a sarcastic edge to her voice. "I suppose that's you illustrating the concept of assholery? I got it the first time you know-"

"No, it's me illustrating the concept of honesty." He raised his arm and stretched it to the side inviting her to sit down beside him. "Come here."

She pulled on the scarf and freed her hair; then she reluctantly glided off the trunk, and landed next to him in the sand, conspicuously pouting and keeping her head in the opposite direction.

"Oh come on!" He chuckled, seeing how upset she seemed to be. "You don't even _want_ to be nice. Nice is boring. And you're a lot of things, but boring is certainly not one of them."

She deigned to turn her head to face him, a smile pointing toward imminent possible forgiveness forming on the corner of her lips.

"Ok. So, I'm not nice. What am I then?"

"You're a pain in the ass." Her jaws dropped and she straightened up imperceptibly but he seized that opportunity to wrap his arm around her shoulder and maintain her next to him. "A _sexy_ pain in the ass." He clarified, "Probably the sexiest one I've met; which considerably lessens the 'pain' aspect of it, when you give it a second look."

"Yeah, I know: you like to stare at my ass, you like to lurk at my boobs. That's what gets you off. Thanks for the subtlety of the pep talk-" She said, sounding a little disappointed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." She defended herself, setting her lips and suddenly everything was screaming the opposite.

"Oh please!" He exclaimed, "Is it because I didn't swamp you under all the right compliments you're entitled to receive? But you know them all perfectly already. I don't have to actually say them, do I?"

She stiffened inside his arms, refusing to look up at him.

"Fine," He grunted, "since you want to play the insecure girlfriend card on our first day, then ok, let's get rid of this now: you're smart, you're sexy, you're funny, you don't suck too much at your job-"

"House, stop it, that's ridiculous!" She accused.

"Exactly! So why are you seeking for reassurance like that? You don't need that!"

"I just dumped a guy who asked me to marry him-" She stopped in the middle of her sentence and hissed, petrified by her own words.

He puffed. "There we are."

(...)

* * *

_**A/N**_

_Haaa yes! T__hat's not because I said 'lovebirds' that everything has to necessarily be all lovey-dovey, right? And you know me… kind of… I don't really like it when it's all pinky and happy!_

_Plus, I said this story was an extrapolation of pics and various interviews or information we got about 7x01 and I remember vividly that DS said at some point that the beach pics were not just reflecting what they seem to depict… because there was more to it than what it looked like... ha! And of course, that got me thinking…_

_So where am I going with this? am I going to mess it up? is it a test, a big one, a scam? _

_And y__ou know the very, very ironic part of all this? _

_I could have gone on with it and maybe even finish that conversation. I even have 3 more pages already written after that! But then, it's 3.30am and I thought: it's either that first part NOW, or nothing at all until tomorrow, but late, since I'm going to have lunch outside..._

_Well, maybe you don't care, but I want to say that my intentions are good! (lol, I sound like a song!) so basically, I did that to be nice, cuz I thought it would be better than nothing. _

_And also I kind of promised oc7ober I would post tonight too, so if you're not happy with the way I ended this one, blame her!(oops, sorry hon! lol)_

_Anyway, I think you've guessed that necessarily, the next chapter's theme will still be BEACH!_

_In the meantime, I hope you liked that one._

_Thank you for your comments and your enthusiasm for this story! They really feed my muse and help me update faster! :)_

_Enjoy life! ~ maya_


	6. The Beach: Take It Or Leave It!

_Hi everyone!_

_here's the new chapter! it's a bit shorter than the previous ones, so I apologize! _

_we're still at the beach, since, as you may remember, we left the two lovebirds in the middle of a cliffhanging, stressing discussion... oops!_

_I hope you'll like how it's going to unfold. as I said, I tried to take what DS suggested into account, which is: that things would not be as simple as they may seem... but, is simple even a real word in House's world anyway?_

_:) _

* * *

**** Chapter ****6 ****

_["I just dumped a guy who asked me to marry him-" She hissed and stopped in the middle of her sentence, petrified by her own words._

_He puffed. "There we are."]_

She straightened up and shot him a panic look, her hands slightly trembling.

"That's not what I meant."

"Yeah, but that's what you said."

"House, I want _you_."

"Why? _Why_ do you want me?"

"You're playing the insecure boyfriend card now?" She tried to joke, unconvincingly.

"Cuddy, you knew how I felt about you. From the moment I stepped into that asylum, you couldn't keep pretending that it meant nothing."

"And you hate me because I dated Lucas-"

"No. I'm not blaming you for moving on with your life; or trying to at least. I've tried that too. I swear I have. But eventually, I haven't changed. I'm the same old jerk who stares at your ass and lurks at your boobs. The same screwed up S.O.B with a huge ego, who's gonna drive you mad-"

"I know."

"So why? What changed?"

"Nothing's changed."

"Yes. Something did. A man asked you to marry him and you ran away."

She looked down, embarrassed.

"You got scared."

"No." She tried to refute. But she was beginning to see where it was going and yet, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"And you went to me. Because you thought, that was too big a step to take without exhausting all your other options first."

"House-"

"You said you needed to try if you and I could be a couple."

"Because I couldn't stop thinking about you, I-"

"That's not what I want." He interrupted

"What?" The exclamation had almost sounded like a cry.

He intensely stared at her for seconds that felt like hours. A shadow darkened his light blue eyes and he took a deep, wobbling breath.

"You can't just _try_ me. I'm not like a three month trial for cable that you can cancel if you don't enjoy it fully."

She bit her lips and prayed for the tears that had welled up in her eyes to dry.

"I don't want to be your _option_." He went on.

"You're not."

"Cuddy, this is serious."

"I know.'

"I mean, when we're going to ... _IF_ ... we crash and fail, I'm going to lose it for good this time."

"Don't say that."

"Don't you know how I was after Stacy? I don't wanna go through that again."

"But, I don't want us to fail. I want this to work."

"Yea, but you can't guarantee me it will-"

She puffed. "Can you?"

He paused and looked down into her quizzical gaze.

"No." He said.

"See? We can't be sure. Except for one thing, because I know that I love _you_." She said with a determined voice, straightening a little in his arms to bring her face to his level and look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, that scares me a little. Sounds like a masochistic thing."

Her eyebrows flew up and her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"I'm selfish, I'm mean, I'm an addict-" He enumerated

"You're demanding, you're uncompromising, you're trying to stay clean-" She rephrased with a tender smile.

"One thing doesn't change though: you always need to get the last word!"

"Hey! That's who I am. Take it or leave it."

"I think I've clearly made my choice already."

"You made NO choice," She exclaimed, "I was the one coming to you! And I didn't even know if you loved me-"

She pouted like a child. Just looking at her claiming his love with such irrational insecurity and burning fiery at the same time made him relax instantly, and he chuckled, studying her with a new-found roguishness.

"Seriously? When did you _ever_ dread me rejecting you if you'd decide to make the first move?"

She stared at him with bafflement.

"Huh? All the time ... more or less." She confessed, surprised that he could ask her. _How the hell could he possibly think she'd ever looked emotionally strong and confident around him? She thought._

"You're kiddin' me, right? You've trampled on me. Crushed me into pieces; and I always was ready to come back and ask for more."

"Umm, no. Sorry, but that's me, here!"

"Sure isn't! Just admit that coming to me yesterday was more like that sudden urge you get to rescue the poor little puppy when you accidentally roll over it with your car, because you were feeling so bad about yourself after all the crap you told me."

"You said plenty of crap to me too, and you're an ass to even mention that now!" She snapped.

"That's who I am. Take it or leave it."

"Are we arguing now?" She asked, a little bemused.

"Not really. We're just making strong points."

He smiled

"That's odd." She said.

"What's odd?"

"It feels no different than usual."

"Yeah, makes you wonder why we waited for so long, right?" He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She searched for his gaze, but he looked away, almost in embarrassment. She bit her lips and feel a wave of tenderness overwhelm her. There was so much fragility trapped underneath his shield. And it was so unique when it showed.

"You know I never took you for granted." She said tentatively.

"You could have."

She stared at him in silence and shivered slightly.

"You cold?"

The sun has gone down and was now a big round orange blazing ball above the horizon. House reached for his jacket beside him on the trunk.

"Here, put that on." He said.

"But how about you?"

He stuck out his chest proudly. "I'm the man. I'm not cold... or let's say that I'm meant to freeze bravely, without saying a word!"

She chuckled and put his jacket on. Then she looked at him with a fond smile and cupped his cheek in her hand, sensually leaning down to kiss him. He jerked back a little against the trunk, surprised by her spontaneous gesture, but when he felt the soft caress of her lips and her tongue gently beginning to stroke the pulp of his lips, he let go and relaxed under her touch. They broke away from their kiss and she sat down again, snuggling up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and letting the perfect quietness of this moment pervade her whole body. They remained still and silent, enfolded in each other's embrace for some long minutes, listening to the roar of the ocean and looking at the sun irrepressibly falling down from the sky, turning the lights of day into iridescent evening colors.

Cuddy took a deep voluptuous sigh and rubbed her cheek against his chest, while her fingers ran lightly along the side of his bare arm.

"It's nice here. I feel good." She said.

"So you're saying you like my idea."

"Yeah." She whispered languorously.

He tightened his embrace, warmth spreading through his chest.

"But," She suddenly felt the need to clarify, "It cannot become a habit."

"No, it cannot." He repeated, ceremoniously.

She straightened up a little.

"House, I'm serious."

He smiled.

"I really can't leave the hospital like that. I shouldn't even have left it today..."

"Sure, but you love that you have! Just admit it!"

"Ok. Fine! I admit: I'm loving this wild escape. It feels so good to be here, completely disconnected."

"Hmm-" He mumbled, absent-mindedly.

"By the way, what did Wilson want?"

"Nothing. Just check on me, as usual."

"You're happy to have him, and you're happy that he cares. Just admit it!" She told him, mimicking his previous tone.

"Mrrmmgghh" He grumbled defensively, "Yeah, ok. Maybe."

She giggled. "I won't tell him, I promise."

"FYI, he knows you cancelled your visit for the house."

"What? How?"

"Well, you called his ex to take care of it to begin with, so that's why! How do you think things work?"

"Dammit!" She grumbled.

"Yeah, and now he's going to find out about us."

She looked up at him, a little startled.

"Of course! Because you're going to tell him, aren't you?"

"Do I really have to do this? I mean, you know that as soon as he'll know, we are never going to see the end of it."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean, we're talking about Wilson here! The guy who paid hundreds of dollars to my team so that they would go out with me!"

"And?"

"And? He's going to make sure _you_ don't make me miserable. Because he knows that it would make _me_ make _him_ miserable, so he's going to be in your office every day, checking if everything's alright. And occasionally in mine too, to double check you didn't lie to him in the first place."

"No, he isn't!" She contradicted as if it was the most improbable thing ever, but sounding a bit doubtful nonetheless.

"You wanna bet?"

There was a heavy silence, during which Cuddy looked straight ahead at the ocean in front of them, contemplating her options.

"We're not telling Wilson." She cut short, determinedly, and she repositioned herself against his chest.

House brought her closer to him and smiled broadly into the brisk air. He was really loving this a lot already.

(...)

* * *

_**A/N**_

_thank you to everyone who make this story go on with their support, their keenness, their comments, their silent reading... I know it sounds cliché but it's true: I like to know that, when I'm up at 3am writing, I do it for a reason. So thank you for being here and letting me know that you are!_

_the next chapter will take them to the club, where it seems they're about to attend a concert... or not, we'll see... I don't know. I have several options..._

_every comment is welcome and very much appreciated! don't be shy ... :) _

_happy summer, happy life! :) ~ maya_


	7. The Beach: Why Did You Give Me The Book?

_Hi everybody!_

_So here's the new chapter._

_Sorry, it's not what I said, because it's still a "beach" chapter… but, as I said on Twitter today, I woke up this morning and I felt this compelling urge to sit down and write this! I didn't even take a cup of coffee, I just grabbed a pen and that's what came out of me!... just flowing :)_

_So? was I supposed to negate it and throw it in the trash?_

_I don't know. Read and tell me ;)_

* * *

**** Chapter 7 ****

They remained enclosed, silent and quiet for another while, just caressing each other gently, breathing in the ocean spray filled with iodine, and almost drifting off in each other's embrace. It felt unreal, but so natural already it should have been frightening, somehow. And they both knew it. They were both well aware that the course of events of the last 24 hours had proved to be anything but rational. And for two rational freaks like them, it just couldn't stay ignored or dismissed forever.

Cuddy started to wriggle slightly inside his arms and he perceived the change in her breathing. She was struggling to repress an urge; an urge of speaking.

"What?" He said relaxing his embrace to give her enough space to straighten up, which she did interrogating him with a quizzical gaze.

"Why did you give me that book?"

"What book?" He faked not to understand.

"The one my great grand-father wrote-"

"Oh! _That_ book... He paused and took a deep breath, "I told you, I had it for years and I wanted to give it to you on a special occasion."

"And so, that's _the one _you chose?" she asked with a strangely accusing edge to her voice.

He frowned.

"Well, that was a _special_ occasion, wasn't it?"

"You just said you had it for years, why didn't you give it to me before? When I found Rachel for example?"

"Hmm, you're right. Makes sense, but I suppose it didn't cross my mind then. You've forgotten I wasn't really on top form last year."

She stared at him with eyes that said, quite on the contrary that she haven't. At all. He sighed heavily.

"Why do you wanna know that now?"

"Because…" She _started_, but stopped, looking down with embarrassment.

"You don't like it?" He asked, a little baffled, "I thought it'd be a special gift for you."

"It is... It could have been... But then, you gave it to me _and_ Lucas."

"I see." An internal wave of awkwardness mixed with glee inflated his lungs. "So that's what's bothering you: that I wrote the name of someone else on a special gift that was meant to be _just_ for you? Didn't your mom teach you to share?" He teased.

She kept her face down and it felt as if she was struggling to decide whether to confess or not.

"I hated it." She finally admitted with honesty.

House's eyes widened out in astonishment.

"I mean," she carried on, "I know I'm not supposed to. I know that it should have... _sounded _right, but... when I read what you wrote, I... I just hated it."

"Why?" He asked with a soft, supportive, voice.

"Because I wanted it to be just _for me_. Not_ him and me_. Because you... acknowledging Lucas in my life like that just... didn't feel... I don't know... It upset me."

"I'm not the one who brought him into the picture in the first place." He said.

"Technically, you are."

"Maybe, but I'm not the one who slept with him."

They both simultaneously bit their lips and stared at each other, trying to suppress the heavy oddity of that last sentence. House lowered his head and his eyes fell on her left hand. He took it inside his and delicately brushed the empty spot around her ring finger with his thumb.

"Would you have done it?" He asked.

"Do what?"

"You know ... marry him?"

"Do we really need to talk about this now?"

"Hey! You're the one talking about this, not me!"

She stared intensely into his eyes.

"I guess not." She admitted.

"But you accepted his proposal."

There was bitterness in his voice. She sighed and closed her eyes, locking herself in to avoid his gaze, knowing all too well already that she wouldn't like what he would say, but that she had to hear it all the same.

"Yeah! Because it made you feel wanted. It made you feel _special_. A single mom, in her forties; tick-tock, tick-tock! You could have definitely missed your opportunities for good. And suddenly, there he was: the young sexy PI willing to make it right! That would have made some great family pictures to hang above your fireplace."

"Shut up!" She groaned.

"Which brings us back to the reasons why you changed your mind so quickly."

"That's not what you think. I didn't get scared." She defended herself.

"So why didn't you do it?"

"Because!" she suddenly shouted with anger, hating him for tugging at her heartstrings and forcing her to phrase it, "I wanted _you_ not him!"

House sucked in a sharp breath.

"Last year, you claimed me as your possession from the top of your lungs, in front of all my staff, in _my_ hospital, and then... then..."

"Then what?"

"Then you disappeared," she said reproachfully, "you went away. You left me. And when you came back ... nothing! It was as if it had never existed, as if you'd never wanted me _for real_ just... only in your twisted, sickening, drug-induced fantasies. But I was real, House. I _am _real. And ... I wanted you to claim me again ... with a _sane_ mind. When you came back, I went to see you and I asked you what I meant for you but ... you rejected me-"

"I had just stepped out of an _asylum_." He said sarcastically.

"I know." She said, her voice coming down a little. "But then, Lucas was around, and he ... distracted me ... he made me think that 'normal' could be an option again."

He furrowed his brow disapprovingly.

"We'd spent half our life dancing around each other, House; playing that insane, unhealthy, game. You spread drama all over me. You dragged me down with you. You never gave me one minute of respite, adding crap after crap. And the craziest thing is that it never felt crazy. It never seemed strange. Never enough for me to say stop. You made me lose the sense of normalcy completely."

"You think that's what I wanted? You think it was easy for me?"

"I don't know. But all this time, I was there. I never gave up on you. You should have known it was for a reason. So I guess I was expecting you to do something. Maybe throw one of your crazy tantrums and claim me back again."

"That's what I did. At Thanksgiving-"

"No. That was just you jerking around. Messing with me and Lucas, for fun."

"It wasn't fun. I really ..." He looked away and gulped. "Ok. Maybe I didn't handle that the way I should have. Maybe I don't know how to do it the right way anyway. But I swear ..."

She sighed heavily.

"You stopped talking to me. You avoided me."

"I was hurt." He confessed through clenched teeth.

"And so was I! And the more time passed, the more I thought that you'd given up; that you didn't care."

"So that was your way of punishing me? You stayed with Lucas to make me pay for my indifference?" He clenched his fist and looked away.

She huffed. "You don't get it at all, do you? I was trying, trying to forget _you_. And yes! _You_ made my life really miserable and I hated you for that. I needed to breathe. I needed to get away. And Lucas, he was there. He was ... nice to me, and Rachel."

"Talk about an exciting alternative!" He grumbled.

She pretended not to hear. "And then, you gave me that book with my name and his written on it and it felt like a slap."

He stared at her, taken aback by her confession.

"When I saw it," she explained, "it felt like another proof that you really didn't care."

"But I did what you asked. Y_ou_'d told me you wanted me to let you live your life with Lucas, leave you two alone."

"Yes ... No ... I don't know, I was angry at you."

"Sure!" he puffed, "I can remember how much you were pretty vividly!"

She bit her lips and looked up at him with a guilty face.

"I've wished I could forget you." She whispered, "Every day, I kept thinking about you. Every night..."

He silenced her with a glare and she censored her confession, lowering her head in shame.

"Then I hated myself because I couldn't get you out of my mind."

"And then you yelled at me for making you hate yourself that you couldn't."

"You don't know how it feels." She told him unthinkingly to defend herself.

He glowered at her for a split second, feeling hurt and then he softened and enveloped her with a fond gaze.

"Don't you dare say that to me." He said in a low, hoarse, voice.

Sorrow spread on her beautiful features, and he smiled to make it go away. It would take time before all the open wounds they have caused each other would heal but she was in his arms now and it felt like the most righteous thing in the world, no matter what the reasons were. He held out his hand and gently touched her cheek with his fingertips. She instantly jolted her head towards his hand and rubbed her face inside his palm, like a cat seeking for a caress.

"So, actually," he summarized, after they reconciled in a moment of silent stillness, "after months and months of misunderstandings, all it took to win you over was a book with the name of your boy toy written on it?"

"It seems so, yes." She smiled at the irony.

"Wow, cool! Best money spent in my whole life."

She sat up swiftly and whacked him on the side of his arm.

"You didn't just compare me to a hooker, did you?"

"Of course not!" He exclaimed, chuckling. "You're not a hooker... you're more like a harpy." She narrowed her eyes at him menacingly. "You're going to make my life a living hell."

"That is, if _you_ make mine a living hell, so then yeah! I am!" She warned.

"And I will love that!"

"Really?"

"Yep! That's how completely insane and screwed-up I am! You happy now?"

She laughed. "Yeah, insane and screwed-up; feels like my life has gone back to normal."

She sighed voluptuously and looked up at him, imperceptibly stretching her neck to bring her face up to his and she pursed her lips teasingly. He leaned down, appealed by her silent call, and kissed her mouth softly. She put her hand behind his neck and pulled him down closer, claiming a greedier bite of his taste. She parted his lips with her tongue and thrust it between his teeth. The way it made him feel incredibly good was unbelievable, almost like the dizzying effect of a shot of morphine. He gently pushed her away and looked at her, awestruck, trying to catch his breath.

"You know I won't marry you, right?" He said, not really knowing any other way but deflection to hide how dangerously overwhelmed he had just felt.

"God forbid!" She exclaimed with a coy smile and she kissed him again, thirstily, and it made his head spin again, enveloping his whole body with a deliciously warm wave. Suddenly, she drew apart and frowned dubiously at him, as if she'd just had a revelation.

"Did you really buy the book yourself or did you buy at the hospital's expense?"

His eyes widened out, and he stared at her bemused. "I'm going to forget you ever dared ask me that for real!" He huffed, showing his best outraged face to her.

She waved her hand in the air dismissively, clearly telling that she wasn't in the least bit remorseful for implying that in the first place.

"How much did it cost you?" she asked casually.

"You know you're not supposed to tell the price of a gift, right?"

"That's a first edition, it must be appallingly expensive."

"It is." He said, somehow oddly proud of himself that she could finally realize the little crazy things he was ready to do for her. And then he smiled and studied her tenderly. "You just can't stop being this hospital administrator freak obsessed by costs for one single minute, can you?"

"That's because I _am_ a hospital administrator." she said, "I'm a doctor and I'm a Dean. That's who I am. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean _'not yet'_?" She said defensively.

"Oh come on, don't tell me it never crossed your mind!"

"What?"

"You're my boss." He said with a 'duh!' face.

"Yes, and?"

"Don't you think it kinda complicates things between us now?"

"No. Why?" She said with the most undoubting and spontaneous outburst, but then she realized her answer had puzzled him and she rolled her eyes. "I've been dealing with you at the hospital for over a decade. I'm used to putting up with your shit. So why would anything change now?" She said, raising her chin up defiantly.

"Because you and I are going to have sex."

"_Or not_!" she teased, "At least, not if you ruin my days being a total pain in the ass any time you get a chance."

"Oh-ho, so that's how it's gonna work? You're going to blackmail me with sex to force me to do my job?"

"And I am so going to succeed!" she said, beaming.

"See? That's exactly what I'm saying." he protested, "You're already being unfair because of our relationship. and we haven't even gone back to working together yet."

"I'm not unfair, and you know it; that's the reason why you listen to me... most of the time." She added as a moderator. He pouted, upset and she let out a quiet laugh. "House! We're going to do just fine." She said reassuringly, "Nothing has to change. You're going to keep storming in my office to beg for my approval over crazy procedures based on your inexplicable hunches, and I'm going to say 'no', and you're going to be pissed, which eventually will force you to find more proof that you were right the first time, so eventually I'm going to say 'yes', or you'll do it anyway, which will get me pissed and yell at you but in the end ... you're going to save another patient's life and despite all the mess you'll force me to deal with, that is what will matter the most; because life is priceless. And that's why nothing is going to change."

He stared at her with his mouth slightly agape, not really knowing if he should tug her in his arms and make love to her right now on that beach or just shake her back to her senses for being so naïve. But he wanted her to be right though. God, he so wanted her to be right... She studied his face, and suddenly she felt overcome by a wave of awkwardness, that ran all the way down her spine and made her quiver.

The sun had gone down and it was dark outside. She looked around her and then back at him.

"It's almost night now." She whispered.

"Yeah, we should move on!" He said enthusiastically.

"Move on? Move on where? You're riding me back home, right?"

"Oh no, I'm not!" He chuckled.

"But House! It's late..."

"I asked for a day. And a day is 24 hours. So it's not even close to ending now." He said with a wicked grin.

She got up, pushing herself up off the trunk. Then she put out her hand to help him stand up. He groaned, wiggling in the sand to sit up and he let her tug him toward her. He bent over to take his cane and backpack, while she shook herself out, part of the warmth she had accumulated while being inside his arms evaporating into thin air and making her shiver.

"Ok, what else have you planned now?" She said resignedly but with a smile irrepressibly forming on the corner of her mouth.

"Do you know who 'the boss' is?"

"Yeah, it's me!" She giggled.

"Ah-ha!" he said, deadpan. "Seriously?"

"Seriously? You're asking me? Have you forgotten that the first thing you'd noticed about me was my ability to party?" She said playfully.

"Yeah, sorry but that concept doesn't automatically pair up with the Springsteen spirit. Actually not even remotely. And anyway, when I said that, I was more visualizing you, moaning Madonna's 'like a virgin' in the campus parties, in do-me pumps and sexy shredded dresses."

She laughed. "Your fantasies will really be the ruin of you one day, you know."

She walked past him and started to leave, returning to where he had parked his bike on the road overhanging the beach.

"So you're pretending that you never sang "like a virgin" in do-me pumps? Ever? And you expect me to believe that?" He shouted after her, following her footsteps in the sand.

The only answer he got was the sound of her laugh, spreading out in the wind.

* * *

_**A/N**_

_Ok so this time, it's pretty much impossible to avoid the club in the next chapter, right? so this is where we'll be next. Everyone is so curious about it, I think it's funny!__ lol_

_And__ just to be clear, I am going to be honest: I know that the episode is going to be called "Thunder Roadtrip". Actually "Thunder Road" is a Bruce Springsteen song, if you don't know it, listen to it: it's beautiful. and with an undeniable Huddy spirit to it... _

_Now,__ I'm not going to say more than that. You'll have to wait to see where it goes!_

_Thank you for your comment and your enthusiasm that blow energy into me, helping me to stay inspired for this story!_

"Darling you know just what I'm here for / So you're scared and you're thinking / That maybe we ain't that young anymore / Show a little faith, there's magic in the night (…)" ~ Thunder Road – B. Springsteen.

_PS: paulac45, where are you? you're missed here! but I wish you disappearing means you're away, enjoying holidays! :)_


	8. The Concert: The Stone Pony

_Hi everyone!_

_I'm back from my vacation, exhausted and a little sad because I miss NYC already but, different time, different context, I'm now happy that I can finally reconnect with my writing and get back to this story!_

_So here's the NEW CHAPTER!_

_At the club... I know some of you are waiting for it impatiently, so I hope you'll like it! :) _

* * *

**** ****Chapter 8 ****

When they reached the bike Cuddy stopped to face the ocean and gave a long look at the beach underneath, mesmerized by the glazing sunlight in the horizon. She inhaled slowly, breathing in the sea mist and printing every image and odor in her mind. House spied her from the side with a fond gaze but after a few seconds he coughed impatiently.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped slightly and turned around to look at him.

"Nothing," she lied "I'm just… waiting for you to get ready."

"You're staring at the beach."

"So what?" she said, sulkily.

He grabbed the helmet he'd gotten for her and put it inside her hands with a killing, smug smile. He was not going to confess how that single longing stare she'd just given at the beach had, from then on, totally turned that spot into something unquestionably unique for him.

"So, you're making us late." He glanced at his watch. "The concert is in one hour." He sat on the saddle and steadied the bike. "Get on!"

She widened her eyes out and stared at him suspiciously, not daring to ask the one question that was burning her lips. But, asking what concert he was talking about, especially when he'd mentioned Bruce Springsteen just a few minutes before… nah! He couldn't be serious… She shook her head to chase the idea out of her mind and sat on the bike behind him, winding her arms around his waist tightly and nuzzling up in his warmth.

From the beach, they rode along the coast as the evening continued to fall down, until they arrived in Asbury Park. House parked his bike on Ocean Avenue, not too far away from 'The Stone Pony', a white block of concrete standing at a crossroads near the beach, in front of which people were already gathered and waiting in a line towards the front door. Cuddy stayed rooted to her spot, unable to move, and just stared at the club's façade with a look of disbelief on her face. The neighborhood was not really fancy, nor was it really lit either. The place was rather dark, and looked more like an industrial park along the beach, or a sort of no man's land. From across the avenue, they could hear the roar of the ocean's waves crashing onto the coast and spreading foam on the sand, which made an incessant popping sound, like corn exploding inside a microwave. The wind had risen and was blowing in her hair and through the flimsy fabric of her clothes. She shivered. House took her hand and pulled her with him, walking determinedly towards the crowded front of the club. She stumbled within the first steps but soon adjusted her pace to his limp, freeing her hand from his grab to seize his bicep and hold on close to him instead.

"What the hell are we doing here?" She whispered, almost reproachfully, clutching her fingers around his arm and stretching her neck to come as close to his ear as she could.

He felt her nervousness and he stopped to face her, looking her right in the eyes, with a smile he hoped would convey all the right words he wanted to say to her: _trust me, don't be afraid, follow me, have fun... trust me._

But truth was, he really wasn't sure himself yet why she should.

"You know what that place is?" He just said, a little challengingly.

She turned her head towards the glittering neon sign and read; "The Stone Pony. Nice name by the way." She smirked sarcastically.

"You know, The Stone Pony is a pretty famous music venue."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. Springsteen was a regular here after the club opened in the mid-seventies. That place is like a pilgrimage for his fans." His smile widened and she sighed. She was confused. She was puzzled. She so obviously didn't know what to think and it made her look terribly attractive.

"Aren't you a fan of Bruce Springsteen?" He added, still smiling.

"Are we talking about me here or did you just ask that question to yourself?" She replied, tit for tat, recovering her poise a little.

"So? What if I happen to like the Boss too?" He intensely stared at her, accentuating the double-meaning of his confession. She couldn't help but smile, driven by an almost mechanical emotional response that escaped her guard, but she promptly erased it from her face, refusing to let him know that he could get to her with smooth talks that easily.

"But you can't lie to me and pretend you don't like him too." He went on, "I saw your records collection in Med-School..." His smile was getting more confident by the second and, as a consequence, her resistance proportionally weaker.

She rolled her eyes and mentally counted to ten to prevent her from shouting her frustration like she wanted to, for not being in control of the situation. God, he was driving her crazy already!

"House, are you taking me to a Bruce Springsteen concert at The Stone Pony tonight?" She asked impatiently.

"How bad would you like me to take you to a Bruce Springsteen concert at The Stone Pony tonight?" He dared her.

"I'm not sure 'bad' is the word I'd use." She answered, coming closer to him. He immediately wound his arms around her and pressed her against his hips, looking down at her with a victorious grin.

"Yeah, cuz 'bad' doesn't even start to describe how much you want it." He said gleefully.

What was there to answer to that? Alright, fine! He had her. Wrapped around his finger. Conquered, deliciously surprised and won over! Was she going to confess him that? No way! He was full of himself enough already, killing her with that unnerving self-satisfied smile of his, sending tickling arousing signals through her nerves, making her fingers tremble because of that uncontrollable need she felt rising inside her, a growing desire to grab him and jump him right there and then, in the semi-obscurity of that street by the ocean...

"Whatever! It doesn't matter how much I want it since we're gonna end up missing it if we don't get going now." She said with great aplomb, grabbing his hand and tugging him with her towards the music theater.

He let her walk just a little ahead of him, until he knew she wouldn't catch that incredible smile that had formed on his lips and that her reaction had just elicited, not really sure she'd have taken it the right way at this point...

Reaching the front of the club, Cuddy started to approach the crowd.

"I can't believe you've got two tickets for that concert!" She said candidly, "That's quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

She turned to face him, literally glowing through each pore of her skin. She was obviously far too excited already to notice the slight awkwardness in House's stance, and his reluctance to join the line queuing towards the entry.

"Mm-yeah, about that..." He said, "You know coincidences are totally overrated. Who still believes in that stupid concept anyway?"

She instantly stiffened and her features tensed. She knew, right away, what he'd just implied by that, but for some inexplicable reason, she _had to_ ask nonetheless.

"What do you mean?"

He took advantage of this fleeting moment of incredulousness to reroute her, by pulling her away from the line and bringing her in a corner, by the side of the club.

"I'm sorry but you dumping Lucas and showing up at my place in the middle of last night without the slightest forewarning sign beforehand didn't exactly leave me the largest window of action to plan every little detail of today's escape."

"Of course! Like buying tickets for a concert, for example." She said with a bitter smirk, refusing to comment about the sarcasm she thought she'd perceived in his tone.

"Hey! You think I didn't try?" He exclaimed defensively, "I looked up on the Internet. I gave some calls to people you wouldn't even want to see on a picture..."

She puffed. "Okay! Fine! You don't have tickets! What I don't get is why you bothered taking me here then?" She said accusingly.

He smiled. Mysteriously and intriguingly, he smiled.

"You see that guy over there, with that I'm-the-king-of-the-street look on his face?"

She turned to look in the direction he had pointed and immediately spotted the said guy, pacing up and down the darkest part of the street, scanning around suspiciously and twiddling something inside his hands.

"No way!" She said, making it a clear, definite statement.

It took him a little by surprise.

"What… why, no way?"

"House. You think I don't know what that guy is. He's a scalper."

"Sure he is! That's why you also know he's going to get us some tickets." He palpated his backpack to check his wallet and started to pace in the guy's direction.

She grabbed his arms, or more like planted her claws into his flesh to stop him, which instantly made him freeze. He turned and looked at her, raising a quizzical eyebrow. She was glowering at him angrily but what most struck him was the fear he saw behind her gaze. It'd been so long since a woman had looked at him with those kinds of eyes, he was not sure anymore how he should react to it. He wasn't even sure if he should interpret the funny shiver that had just run through his spine as a good sign or not.

"House, no." She pleaded.

He'd lied; because he knew exactly what kind of a sign it was, and how he should interpret it.

The delicate shiver had been his first undeniable clue. Then the intonation in her voice, so undoubtedly dripping of loving concern for him, just confirmed something his excessively guarded emotional intelligence had perfectly deciphered already: Yes, her fear was for him; because she wanted to protect him, and herself too, from some horrific scenarios she'd just stupidly formed inside her brain. She'd seen that young guy in a dark corner of a deserted street, whose nervousness was vaguely, if even at all, threatening – since all he was most certainly waiting for anyway was the moment when he'd have gathered enough cash to buy his dose of crack (meth's or whatever substance) his gaunt, agitated body was more and more impatiently aching to be fed with - and yet, unpredictably, and somehow totally irrationally too, she'd been scared for him.

Maybe he didn't really know what to make out of it but he knew that a part of him, unsafe and still helpless like a newborn child could be, was more than ready to welcome that feeling with no questions asked, only enjoying the pure, warm sensation it had sent flowing through his veins; Except deep down, in that cold, cold, buried place in his mind – no, heart – there still was a functioning alarm system that could form warning signs, which said that overly concerns about his safety and health had the sour taste of what would come just before betrayal.

And he hated himself, the universe and every atom in it, for allowing such sign to haunt him again and ruin that other, already addictive, new feeling he was becoming to experience with her: she was worried for him, in a way that was inimitable, and special, and that did not feel dangerous, and he'd thought he could really like that.

He wasn't moving and Cuddy read his stillness as the proof of his docile surrender to her command, so she decided that it was safe to let go of his arm. The loss of her touch on him made him practically lose his balance, as if during all those endless seconds while his thoughts were drifting toward his past, her grip had been what had kept him steady.

"You hear me?" She felt the need to add, nudging his elbow with hers.

He sucked in a deep breath, a physiological reflex to shake him out of his numbness, and he looked down at her, defiantly.

"Alright. Let's say I don't ask the guy. You do know it kinda eliminates our last chance to get tickets and go in there, right? So I only have two words for you: _Bruce. Springsteen_. And you'd better be really sure about what your answer to those two words is."

She straightened up and raised her chin up in his direction. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"That's simple," She said, looking at the crowd of people gathered in front of the entry door. "My answer is: I think that scalper guy, who'd have probably sold you false tickets at an outrageous price anyway, is not our _last_ chance to go in there."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa! Slow down Bonnie! I know you don't like my method, but at least, I'm willing to pay someone to have tickets. So, as much as I'd love to be your Clyde, I'm not going to mug anybody here."

She shook her head and looked at him with an appalled look.

"That's just crap! Who said anything about mugging anyone? We don't need to. Cuz' you and I are doctors!" She punctuated her last statement with a plain self-satisfied smile.

"Of course!" He exclaimed derisively, slapping his forehead with his flat hand. "I totally forgot doctors don't need to pay for concert tickets. "Duh! What was I thinking?"

"Actually, not the ones from the staff, yes." She said, with a little Machiavellian smile.

That smile immediately caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes and a similar grin slowly formed out of the corner of his lips.

"Oh-ho! Doctor Cuddy, if I'm not mistaken, it sounds like you have a plan, you, evil little minx!"

"I do."

"Hit me!"

"You know, every singer or band that goes on stage has a medical staff following them on tour or everywhere they perform."

"Yeah, I know that. But how do _you_ know?"

"When I was a med-student, I... uh... sorta went out with that professor, who happened to like that rock band and secondarily, worked with the medical crew whenever they'd perform in town. He took me to a concert once and he showed me how it worked backstage, with the band and all."

She'd reeled off her speech, avoiding his gaze as much as possible, but when the silence that ensued became too heavy to ignore, she was forced to lift her eyes towards him. House was staring at her, with his mouth agape, a look of bemusement on his face. She felt trapped by the intensity of his stare.

"That was _after_ you and I... I mean, you'd already been fired from the University." She stuttered the first thing that came to her mind as the most logical reply she thought he was probably expecting to hear.

"You slept with a professor in Med-School?"

"He was not married."

He raised his eyebrow and pouted disapprovingly.

"Getting a divorce..." She mumbled, looking down.

He smiled.

"He'd already filed for it _before_." She specified, getting more and more adorably clueless about what the right thing to say should be.

"Oh My Gawd! You slept with a professor in Med-School." He repeated, his smile widening.

"I was not attending any of his classes." She added defensively, before he would make a comment that she knew she would not like.

He grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her in his arms.

"I've always known you were much naughtier than you're willing to admit you are." He teased, leaning down to her face and stealing a kiss from her. She gave in the first two seconds but then she pulled herself together and pushed him away, freeing herself from his embrace and waving a menacing finger in front of his chest.

"That's not the point! I don't even know why we're talking about that now." She said resentfully, trying to hide the complete and dangerous emotional confusion into which his sauciness was throwing her.

The smile, and the eyes, the translucent blue of his eyes... and that strapping body, standing so close to her... none of those things were helping either.

"House, dammit, focus!" She commanded, in a way that made it obvious she was mostly talking to herself.

He laughed.

"Okay, so you stay beside me and you don't say a word. You let me do all the talking. We're doctors. We're part of the staff... you just... well you just shut up and let me do it! Got it?"

"Yes Mistress!" He answered, amused.

Without thinking she seized his hand and started marching down the club, pulling him with her, as decidedly as an armored squadron streaming towards victory. A few steps further, she realized it might look a little bit inappropriate, as staff doctors, to show up hand in hand at the door and she swiftly released him from her grab, almost throwing his hand away from hers. He didn't say a word but couldn't help chuckling.

"Shut up!" she said, without looking at him.

He turned his head to the side, leaning down to her, and with his thumb and index finger, he conspicuously mimicked the zipping up gesture of his lips. She rolled her eyes and they arrived at the front door of the club.

House was a tall man. She'd always loved that about him. There was an undeniable sense of safety emanating from a tall, large body like his. But that guy at the door... saying his body was tall and large was an understatement. He made House look almost small in comparison and that, was the first thing she didn't like about him. Not to mention that he forced her to tilt her head up like a little girl needs to when she talks to her dad. And no, really, she didn't like that at all either. On the upside though, since she had it almost under her eyes, she immediately spotted the name on the badge he was wearing hung to the front pocket of his black shirt.

"Hi! Uh... Jay... How are you?" Cuddy started, covering the side of his arm with her slender hand, at least a part of it, in what she thought would look like a sort of friendly gesture; and the tall guy, Jay, shot her an immediate suspicious look. She felt his bicep's muscle contract under her touch and she removed her hand, as if she'd suddenly been burnt. "I'm doctor... uh... doctor Cosby," she said out of nowhere and, beside her, she heard the sound of an already defeated sigh escaping House's lips. "And here's doctor..." she turned to the side and urged House to complete her sentence, compellingly pointing her palm up at him. His eyebrows flew up and he stared at her quizzically, as if saying: "Oh, so now I can talk?" She shot him a death glare, which he cleverly translated into a 'yes', and promptly turned to face the guy.

"Doctor... hmm... Ruth?" He said, very happy with his own personal pseudonym choice.

"Tickets."

That was the first word that came out of the gigantic bouncer's mouth and suddenly they both realized that the intensity of a voice really _is_ proportionate to the width of the cavity into which it resonates. Cuddy shivered slightly but she refused to let herself be impressed and she let out a laugh, _her_ laugh, throaty and proven to be utterly disconcerting, in every other usual circumstances, that is.

"No, no, Jay" She said, her voice suddenly incredibly assertive. "You don't get it. We're doctors. Doctor Cosby and Doctor... Ruth. We're from the staff."

Jay, whose impassibility could have won him a gold medal if there ever were an Olympic game of some sort for _'big guy standing at a club's front door, absolutely unimpressed no matter what happens_', looked Cuddy up and down slowly and he, just as slowly, raised a huge hand in front of her, palm facing her.

"No you're not." He simply stated; and something in the unshakable certainty of his tone made it impossible to even try to contradict that evidence. But he probably wasn't expecting the little frail, and let's be honest sexy, lady to still stand in front of him after that though. "Dr. Cox is the one from the staff. And he's already inside." He felt the need to clarify, half-heartedly, hoping it would be dismissive enough.

"You obviously don't know what you're talking about-" Cuddy insisted, completely unaware of the incredible stunned look her sassy remark had set off on big guy's face.

House, however, had perfectly noticed it. That one, but mostly the one he suspected would come right after, which had to be dangerously lower on Jay's personal scale of friendliness. He locked eyes with the incorruptible gorilla and gripped Cuddy's arm, giving it a firm squeeze to draw her attention to him.

"Dr. Cosby" He said, still staring at the bouncer, and pulling her to him, "I think it's useless to insist."

She squirmed to free her arm from his grab and looked up at him. House's eyes were compelling and she imperceptibly nodded her capitulation. But first, _of course_, she had to let all her frustration out of her system. And it came out in a rather disorganized and quite unexpected way.

"Fine! I'm not Dr. Cosby," She waved her hand in House's direction "and this man is not Dr. Ruth - by the way could you have chosen a more stupid inappropriate name?" She glared angrily at him and swiftly planted her eyes back into Jay's incredulous gaze, "We're not from the staff!"

"I think he got that already!" House mumbled.

"I'm not finished!" She silenced him. Jay gave House a look of empathy. "But you know I'm a real doctor. I cure people. I'm not just giving shots of cortisone in rock stars' vocal chords before a concert so that they can scream from the top of their lungs, deafening half the audience in the room!"

"Oh for the love of God, is that really necessary?" House asked, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, it is." She answered without a hesitation. She came close to Jay's imposing figure and planted her index into his overdeveloped pectoral muscle, "Maybe you're big and all, but I'm not impressed." The guy's mouth slightly dropped open. "So yeah, I'm not from the staff, but I can still give you one real doctor advice, and you can consider this as a favor: you should slow down on the steroids, Jay. You obviously take way too much of these, and it's not good. Not good at all. You wanna know the side-effects of steroids abuse?"

House's eyes widened out and he promptly seized her by the wrist.

"No, he doesn't!" He instantly advised her, yanking her away.

She let House tug her away from Jay, the front door, and their defeat rather docilely, but while he kept hurrying her away, she stubbornly recited the symptoms, raising her voice, as she was getting farther, to make sure he would hear them all.

"Toxins in the liver, acne ... Impotence! SHRINKING OF THE TESTICLES!"

And with that ultimate male threat, they were back to square one, into the dark street by the side of The Stone Pony.

"What a complete jerk!" Cuddy hissed, once they were far enough to be out of sight and decide to stop their retreat.

"Absolutely!" House approved supportively, repressing a smile, ogling her, so adorably upset, her cheeks flushed with anger, her hair all messed up and her eyes sending little slate grey darts that could have struck down anyone who'd have dared stare into her gaze right in that moment.

She saw his smile, and she read the tantalizing roguishness in it, instead of all the indisputable, genuine tenderness that was lying underneath, which had overwhelmed him the moment he'd seen her so irremediably sabotaging their last chance with a fierce, unconscious passion she only, could express in such moments.

"Don't say a word." She warned.

He complied for the next few minutes, after what she sighed, defeated.

"What do we do now?" She asked, with a little voice.

"I don't know. Maybe you should have slept with a bouncer instead of that useless professor in Med-school. That would have proven to be strategically more efficient, I'm sure." He mocked.

"You're an ass."

He smiled.

"See? That's why God invented cleavages. So that, in situations like that, women won't have to talk; because paradoxically, men do listen to silent women with wide-open cleavages far more religiously than to anything they say for real; especially when the 'thing' they say ends up being a vindictive threat, insulting their virility."

"Alright, I get it. I screwed up. You were right: I should have let you buy tickets to that scalper in the first place. So stop gloating and go get them now."

"Cuddy...," He said, looking at her with a sorry smile. "The guy's gone. He's probably made enough money and now, I'm sure he's somewhere down the beach smoking his take for the night in front of a bonfire."

"But..." She looked down, unable to hide her disappointment and moreover, her helplessness, and he couldn't stand to see her like that.

He wanted to make her happy. Make her smile. Fulfill her. He wanted to see those little sparkles of passion in her eyes, not that dull gaze, disillusioned and sad.

"Tell me you have some girly make-up inside your purse." He asked suddenly, decidedly.

She lifted her head and scrutinized him with a look of bafflement.

"What does make-up has to do with all that?"

"Do you?" He insisted, with a mischievous smile.

She recognized that smile and then, the sparkle reappeared in her eyes. She nodded, expectantly. He plunged his hand into his backpack inside which he had put her tiny purse when she'd gotten on his bike and fished it out of the bag, handing it over to her.

"What do you need?"

"Nail polish? Lipstick? Anything red-dish." He told her and her smiled widened.

"Oh-ho, Dr. House, and may I ask what you have in mind?"

"You had your chance. Now it's my turn. So, you stay by my side and you do exactly as I tell. 'kay? Now gimme the make-up and watch the pro!"

* * *

_**A/N**_

_I really struggled a lot to find a decent plausible location that would resemble the setting of that place where they filmed the concert scene, or at least, wh__at I think is the concert scene, though I don't know if it is._

_But __I couldn't find anything satisfying and, since I'm obsessed enough to want every little detail to be as much perfect as they can, I almost gave up writing that chapter._

_Then __I asked a good friend if she could think of a good place where it could be: something in New Jersey, or New York state, not too far to Princeton anyway, that would be by the beach… a place where Bruce Springsteen could reasonably perform for real…_

_She suggested Atlantic City and I googled the place, looked at some maps of the city, pics, I searched for concert halls... but nothing was inspiring. I'm not from there and I felt uncomfortable with that place because I've never been there and I cruelly lacked visuals; and visuals are everything, right? Or important at least…_

_Anyway, I ended up just googling "Springsteen + concert + USA" and it gave me a lists of 2010 dates of concerts among which was one in July, at The Stone Pony, Asbury Park, NJ (actually it was a concert of Alejandro Escovedo singing Springsteen, or something… but anyway! God bless the Internet!_

_I mean, I have truly NO IDEA where the concert scene will take place, but I must confess I'm quite proud of my brainwave. As I kept searching for more details about that place to get some visuals and history, some vibes in a way, I was stunned to find out it was actually linked a lot to Springsteen for real._

_And also, it's by the beach. And it's in New Jersey. Perhaps, it doesn't look absolutely like the place we could see in the video that were posted to YouTube – it surely doesn't - but I hope you won't mind and that you'll still be able to feel an atmosphere as I tried to convey it._

_Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy that chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)_

_Seize the day__, and... love sex (special dedication… because, I mean: Huddy PROMO! woo-hoo!) ~ maya_


	9. The Concert: The Night Belongs To Lovers

_Hi there!_

_Here's the NEW CHAPTER, finally!_

_I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but to be honest I've struggled a lot with that one. Even more than with the previous one. I kept asking myself: should I let them go in there, or not? Can Springsteen really show?... and all that. I couldn't picture the right vibe, and I kept hitting writer's block… until, I don't know, I decided to go on with a flow and stick to it! :)_

_I'm sure my option is not the one we'll see in the show, but I __tried to make it the most plausible possible. But, it's still only a fanfic, with lots of flaws and I'm sure I'll be proven wrong as soon as the premiere will air. I just want it to be something that can be House-like. Not necessarily the truth, but something probable... well, at least faithful to my vision of the show and those two enthralling characters… so I hope I didn't fail too much._

_Anyway, here it is…_

_I hope you'll like it since, another thing that I need to tell: THIS CHAPTER IS THE LAST ONE!_

_Yeah, I said it was going to be a short story, only based upon the atmosphere of premiere episode, so I won't continue further._

_However… I know you all, or part of you at least, are naughty sex maniacs lol, kinda... so I could maybe think of writing a small addition to that, which would be M-rated IF! (and only IF) you're really showing me that you want it… _

_So let me __thank you all SO VERY MUCH for your enthusiasm and your reviews and everything you posted to me, here and there about this story. I appreciated each word and they all fueled me and inspired me to keep going._

_Now, on to the last part: The Concert...__ :) _

* * *

**** Chapter 9 ****

_["Oh-ho, Dr. House, and may I ask what you have in mind?"_

_"You had your chance. Now it's my turn. So, you stay by my side and you do exactly as I tell. 'kay? Now gimme the make-up and watch the pro!"]_

"What's your plan? Cuz' you have a plan, don't you? Please tell me you have a plan!" she reeled off impatiently.

He stopped fumbling into her tiny purse for a short while to study her and couldn't repress a smile. She was eyeing around the street like a lawbreaker, as if they were planning the break-in of the century.

"Punch me in the face." He said.

It brought her focus right back on him. Very efficiently. She froze and looked at him flabbergasted.

"What? You're not serious."

"Uhm, am I?" He tantalized. "Actually, not really. That was an _under_statement, almost… kinda metaphorical too."

"What are you talking about? I'm not punching you in the face." She glanced down at his groin "and not... anywhere else." She added, doing her best to decipher what he meant.

"Yeah, you'll have plenty of time to squash my magic balls later, symbolically, or even literally who knows, with your bossy castrating Chief Commander manners."

"Or, maybe I'll just punch you in the face then. Cuz' I could still need the rest of you-" She provoked.

He fished some carmine red nail polish out of her bag and she frowned, upset.

"Are you going to tell me what it's all about?"

"Blood." He declared solemnly holding out the little bottle in the air.

Her eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"From what I recall of the way you so brilliantly captured King Kong's attention back there with your ridiculously stubborn sexy body, I think he didn't even notice I was limping."

"And?"

"And, now I will. At least for him. Add blood, panic-stricken erratic screams and some muddling medical explanations spreading a sense of imminent possible death, and we're in!"

"You want to fake an injury?" She rephrased, a little baffled. "How's that supposed to grant us access to the concert?"

"You don't listen to anything you're told, do you? Mister-T said that they already had a doc in their staff."

"Yeah, got that! No need to spell it out for me again!"

"And, he said he was _inside_." House whispered, leaning down toward her slightly.

Her eyes widened and "eureka" slowly seemed to spell on her forehead, as the revelation hit her.

"Ohh, I see! You want to fake an injury so that big guy there has no other choice but to let us inside to see their staff doctor and then, we're in!"

"Assuming, 'failure to assist a person in danger' is an enough threatening concept to him, yeah, that's basically it!" House said beaming proudly.

"But what if he follows us inside and realizes that was all just a scam?"

"Not likely to happen. I'm pretty sure he has to stay outside as long as the concert is on, to survey the land, you know, in case of a sudden unfriendly invasion of… umm... Eminem's fans?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're probably right!" She was fidgeting of anticipated excitation already.

He stepped closer to her and stared intensely into her eyes.

"Don't get all excited, it's not gonna be a cake walk!"

"Oh give me a break! As if I didn't know how to hoodwink someone already!" She interrupted, somewhat piqued in her pride.

"Don't take it the wrong way, Catwoman, but I think convincing people to sign big donor checks to build pediatric wards is not the same as faking an injury to get medical assistance."

"Yeah, I'm surely not as trained as you are!" She snapped.

The stare he gave her was as explicit as words could have been and she looked down briefly, feeling guilty.

"Just follow me. And try not to talk too much."

She huffed and made a disapproving pout.

"Just be your... self" He added, teasingly.

"And what would that be?"

"You know, threatening, shrieking, annoying! That'll be your contributing skills and our best chance to make Big Guy beg for our little act to end faster and yield more easily." Her eyes opened even wider in pure shocked disapproval fashion. "Come on, that's your trademark strategy, admit it! Don't try to sell me that you're not used to doing that on purpose. I don't buy it."

"Okay. Fine! Get ready now, smartass! I'm freezing out here! Cuz', weren't you supposed to take me to a concert like ages ago?"

"See? What did I just say?"

He scrabbled into his backpack and retrieved a small pocketknife. She barely had the time to register his move that he opened it and pinched the thick cotton fabric of his jeans on the front of his right thigh.

"House! What the hell are you do-" She covered her mouth with her hand, just as the sound of the pants being ripped off echoed in the night. She watched him with her mouth agape, while he consciously poured some red nail polish around the tear next.

"Costumes and make-up! Never neglect those two!" He said, throwing his cane away in the street.

"Your cane!" She exclaimed.

"Unnecessary accessory. Plus, you didn't like it anyway."

"But-"

"Don't you think it'd be quite weird if I showed up with a fancy cane, I'd happen to _already _have, to steady my supposedly still bleeding leg injury?"

"Oh-"

She felt like the untrained crook learning from a mafia Godfather. She felt ridiculously naïve and unprepared, but she felt absolutely thrilled and fascinated at the same time. She was, actually, showing him that she was, fascinated, by staring at him with an ingenuous gaze and he brought her back to earth when he suddenly and unceremoniously threw his arm over her shoulder and partially shifted his body weight onto her.

"Oww!" He moaned, wincing and shriveling in pain.

She promptly faced him and put both her hands on the round shape of his shoulders to keep him steady.

"What? What's wrong?" She inquired, worriedly.

The next second he had straightened up and was looking at her with a wide beam.

"Ha! So I assume that's convincing enough, right?"

"God! You're sick!" she puffed, pushing him backward reproachfully.

"Yeah! that's the plan! Now, be prepared to scream threateningly... Showtime!"

He adjusted his arm on her shoulder again and they headed towards the club once more, griping each other and stumbling clumsily at each step.

As soon as the bouncer came to sight, House automatically grasped his thigh and writhed in pain, groaning louder and louder as they approached with what was meant to look like a hasty, panicked pace. When he spotted them, Jay instantly reached for his jacket inner pocket and for a completely irrational, fleeting split second, Cuddy feared he was going to grab a gun and shoot them both. But he fished out a walkie-talkie and she immediately translated that input into unwanted trouble.

They certainly didn't need Big Guy to call for medical back-up _outside_ the club. That would have been too ironic. With the energy of despair and the force of stubbornness, Cuddy suddenly speeded up her limping pace, dragging a theatrically agonizing House with her and catching him slightly off guard, but within a few steps, they were both standing in front of the bouncer, before he had the chance to make his call.

"We need to go inside!" She said with her "this will be non-negotiable" voice. "He needs a doctor!" She added. It seemed, if his startled gaze was to be read correctly, that the guy had perfectly registered that by himself already, but apparently he was not reactive enough for Cuddy's taste. "NOW!" She yelled and 200 pounds of muscle jumped noticeably backwards.

If he wasn't already busy whining and moaning convincingly, House could have probably laughed at that risible irony.

"Bb- Bu- but" Jay stuttered, strangely not knowing what to say or where to start. "What happened?"

"Dammit, who cares?" House barked, a little taken aback by the question.

"He got assaulted, that's what! What do you think happened, Genius?" Cuddy snapped, with a new-found assertiveness that instantly floored House with admiration. "Now, open that damn door and let us see your doctor before he bleeds to death!"

House writhed convincingly and even added a little extra grunt, clutching his thigh around his supposedly bleeding injury. Jay stared at them, then at his hand holding the walkie-talkie, then back at them. There were obvious signs of him struggling to make a decision and the look of puzzlement and confusion on his face was undeniable proof of it.

"Aren't you a doctor yourself?" He asked to Cuddy, suspiciously, as his rationality was getting more and more noticeably questioned by the unusual situation.

"What difference does that make?" Cuddy retorted tit for tat, with unwavering determination "That man needs stitches and I can't stitch him up in the middle of the street, now can I?"

Actually, not that Jay needed to know that but, she perfectly could. That woman would have performed open-heart surgery in the middle of a battlefield without even blinking an eye. At least, that's what House believed she was capable of. She was fearless, fragile yes, but also recklessly intrepid somehow. Like a kamikaze: stupid, stubborn and overly theatrical and, on the scale of true life meanings, universal matters and all, probably just a dust; but to him, she really could sink an aircraft carrier with a single one of her determined moves. How could that insensitive gorilla not see that stitch him up in the middle of the street was a walk in the park for her? That's exactly what she'd done to his neck the night before, absolutely impassible and almost with heartless control over him and the situation. It stung the scarring edges of his still fresh wound really hard to recall the vivid memory of those excruciating moments, yet so far away from any kind of physically-related sensation. But then he remembered the feeling of flabbergasted bliss that seeing her storming in her bathroom had given him, just when he was about to give up and swallow dry a really unreasonable amount of Vicodin pills, and that's how he knew it was time to pull out all the stops. _For her_. Because they _needed_ to get inside that club.

And they had a gate of opportunity. Now.

"Hey!" He shouted all of a sudden, "I'm bleeding here! And it hurts like HELL! Fucking do something useful and open that door!" He waved his hand, immaculate with a thick layer of nail polish in front of the bouncer's face, who cringed at the vision.

With ideally synchronized reactivity, Cuddy seized this opportunity to finish him off with one dose of her secret weapon: legal issue and administrative threats.

"If his injury gets worse and he develops an infection just because you'd have kept standing there doing nothing instead of granting us access to quick, efficient medical assistance, I can assure you that-"

Was it the exhausting noise they were making? The extravagant, unbelievable drama they were throwing at him relentlessly or maybe and quite simply that he was just tired of having them around him? At some point, Jay, the bouncer - and although he could have proudly sworn that, in more than fifteen years of doing that job, he had always stayed implacably unimpressed – gave up.

Just like that.

He sighed heavily and waved his hand in front of him as if he was chasing a couple of bugging flies away and he stepped aside, clearing the access to the door.

"There. Go inside. Enjoy your concert or whatever, but just disappear!"

Cuddy froze and put her hands on her hips.

"This is not about the concert, we're-"

House let out an exasperated growl.

"Oh please, not _now_!" He shouted reproachfully, before she would blow it out for good, for the second time, hoping that it would get her to focus back on their goal, which, may she like it or not, was not to teach a sarcastic bouncer a lesson any longer at this point.

She turned her head in his direction and caught his compelling eyes, silently shouting something along the line of: "For the love of all Gods, can you just shut up now, and seize that unlikely to happen twice in a hundred year life opportunity, instead of being overly dramatic and touchy over a – dare I point that out? - _fake_ scenario here?" Or it could have just been that he'd also mumbled a desperate: "Cuddyyyyy!" that beseeched her to follow him. She smiled faintly and ran to him, instantly winding her arm around his waist while his put his around her shoulder.

And they entered the club, limping exaggeratedly within the first steps, just in case Jay would have decided to wonder what it was all about or worse, change his mind.

# # # # #

The concert hall was bathed with an artistic semi-obscurity, just bright enough to reveal the outlines of their bodies through the darkness. The air was filled with humidity already, coming from the vibrant passion exhaling from the crowd gathered in front of the stage. The sound of the piano and the acoustic guitar, and the raspy voice of the Boss, singing the last verses of "Thunder Road" filled their ears as soon as they stepped inside.

_(…) __Well I got this guitar  
And I learned how to make it talk  
And my car's out back  
If you're ready to take that long walk  
From your front porch to my front seat  
The door's open but the ride it ain't free  
And I know you're lonely  
For words that I ain't spoken  
But tonight we'll be free  
All the promises'll be broken (…)  
_

They'd entered the concert hall through the backdoor so the majority of the audience was already spread all over the place, standing in front of them and blocking the view. All they could see was warm, colorful glittering limelight cutting through space above the stage. House took Cuddy's hand and pulled her with him through the crowd trying to clear a path towards the front. She resisted and pulled back, refusing to move.

"House! What are you doing?" She asked, raising her voice above the sound of the music.

"Come on, we'll see better down there." He answered, decidedly.

"But we're fine here!" She contradicted, still shouting.

The nearest group of people just around them made a noticeable, joint move, like a wave of protest that squashed her between unknown shoulders and started to drag her away from House. She gripped his hand tighter not to be sucked by the crowd and he jerked her towards him to keep her close. She took advantage of this fleeting moment of confusion to step away and return at the periphery of the horde. House followed reluctantly, just when a ray of light swept the air just above them and enlightened their faces for a split second. He stared into her eyes where he could see traces of evident uneasiness. She smiled shyly at him.

"We can't see anything from here." He protested.

But she didn't care. She felt safer where she was. Live music itself was enough an experience for her. A part of her, somehow, wished they could just stand there, make out and let themselves be cradled by the distant sound of the Boss' voice singing his folk ballads just for them. This impetuous urge to go and stand right against the edge of the stage to yell from the top of their lungs underneath very, very, loud speakers was a teenager thing anyway. And she was not a teenager anymore. Neither was he. They were a man and a woman, trying to start something; trying to find their own rhythm. _Trying._ The last notes of 'Thunder Road' echoed in the concert hall and the crowd waved with satisfaction, hooting and hollering frenziedly. In the buzzing noise surrounding them, Cuddy pretended to create a silent bubble for both of them. She reached out her hand to House's jaw and caressed his cheek softly. The mesmerizing piano melody of "Because The Night" started to fill the air.

_Take me now baby here as I am  
Pull me close, try and understand_

_Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe  
Love is a banquet on which we feed_

Despite the darkness, Cuddy felt House's intense gaze on her. He covered her hand with his and slid it down his face. Then he leaned down and kissed her lips, thirstily.

_Come on now try and understand  
The way I feel when I'm in your hands  
Take my hand come undercover  
They can't hurt you now,  
Can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now_

And suddenly, before she knew it, he firmly tightened his grab around her slender hand and resolutely threw himself, and her, into the crowd. She had no time to react, even less protest, and her only option was to hold on tight to him, in the hope that the crowd would not take them away from each other.

_Because The Night__ belongs to lovers  
Because The Night belongs to lust_

_Because The Night__ belongs to lovers  
Because The Night belongs to us_

The first yards felt like a round of ultimate wrestling. Since the music was too loud to allow them to express their irritation verbally, people objected against this invasion - of a territory they had struggled to conquer - in lots of different, but all quite inspired, aggressive manners: elbow kicks in the ribs, foot kicks in the shinbone, hard, strong hip bumps... Cuddy may have had a tough character, and some undeniable muscles to help her prove it, her body was still too frail to take it all. House saw it and he tried to beat a hasty retreat out of the crowd, but they were trapped inside the mass, which was visibly firmly resolute not to make it easy for them to get out and take a tangent.

"House!" She shouted, when someone stepped on her feet and made her topple in her six-inch high-heel shoes, dangerously contorting her ankle in the wrong direction.

That, was too much.

"Clear off!" He ordered to the people right in front of him, limping straight through the crowd, pulling her with him, and groaning like a furious bear at everyone who dared to stand in his way.

Taken off guard, the crowd showed some reluctance to obey his compelling command at first but House insisted on making a point and punctuated his words with strong clenched fist arguments that his medical knowledge had taught him exactly where to poke. Some of the men started to respond equally and House started to regret he had to throw his cane away. He'd certainly have known how to make a helpful use of it. At some point, he hadn't many options left, so heedlessly, he opted for what he thought was his best compromising choice.

"HELP! HELP!" He suddenly vociferated, "I'm bleeding!"

The crowd almost instantly split in two, like the Red Sea in front of Moses and Cuddy's eyes opened wide, when she saw a man jerking out of the security perimeter and running towards them with a flashlight pointing in their direction. The next second, he was tugging House away, extracting him from the crowd and forcing her to let go of his hand.

# # # # #

"I can't believe you did what you did!" Cuddy kept saying reproachfully, as they were back in the street, outside the club again.

"People were walking over you."

"They were walking over me, because despite the fact that I was perfectly happy with where we were, your selfish self had decided that it was better to be closer to the stage!"

House was looking at her with an undecipherable gaze, but undeniably not proud of himself. Especially as he was standing there, with a light green pajama's bottom with dolphins and fishes printed on it.

The guy with the flashlight, who had come to their rescue - at least that's what he thought he was doing - clearing the way to liberate them from the suffocating crowd waves, could have been Jay's twin. As soon as he'd grabbed House, and without waiting for an explanation, or even needing one, he'd decidedly almost carried him away, directly towards the side of the stage, where the medical staff was standing, ready to intervene if anything bad happened.

Apparently, red nail polish made a pretty realistic blood substitute because once they saw House and his leg, or more specifically his jeans, stained with the large red spot left by the thick liquid, three of them immediately rushed to him and switched into E.R mode, lying him down on a stretcher and carrying him away backstage.

Meanwhile Cuddy, left alone in the most impromptu way, had had all the difficulties in the world to manage to find him and join him but – thank God, for her stubbornness - lots of threats and shrieking, angry noises later, she'd finally convinced the guy blocking the access to the backstage that she was with the injured man that had been taken there minutes earlier and that, as a doctor herself, she needed to be with him. When she'd joined him, the three guys, nearly in Afghanistan rescue mission mode, had completely cut through the fabric of his jeans from hem to zipper, to access his injury.

Which, of course, as they all realized with stupefaction, turned out to be _real_, but still, _fake_... as in 'not freshly bleeding'. All of that led to incredulousness, bafflement, and then consternation, and then outrage.

And finally, to tickets request.

Only minutes later, two bouncers with no apparent sense of humor had showed a mortified Cuddy and a resigned House the front door. And, he could be thankful that one of the doctors there, or whoever with a heart and a little sympathy, had been kind enough to offer him the PJs' bottom to replace his shredded jeans or he might as well have been thrown out just wearing his boxers. And now they were outside again, while inside, the concert was still going on full spring, without them.

"Dammit House! Why the hell did you let them cut open your jeans?" Cuddy was shouting at him, resentfully, pacing up and down the front of the club like a tiger in a cage.

"Cuz' I was supposed to be wounded, that's why! What was I supposed to do? Stop them and say: 'Oh no! Don't look there, it's all faked!'" He snapped back, with his 'duh!' face.

"We should never have gone for your supposedly master plan in the first place!"

"Oh yeah? Cuz' you think yelling at a guy who, _if handled well_, could have granted us access in there that he'd end up with testicles the size of a peanut was clever? At least, _I_ got us inside!"

They were pointing fingers at each other, visibly confused and not really knowing what to do with their boiling frustration.

"Sure and just when we could have enjoyed the concert quietly, that's when you decide to throw us in the middle of a boxing ring. God, why is it so complicated with you? Why can't it just be simple?"

House sucked in a sharp breath and for a fleeting instant, panic passed through his eyes.

"I don't know." He said with a much softer voice.

This change of tone slightly took Cuddy by surprise and she stopped striding around him in circles to stand in front of him, then she sighed heavily and looked him right in the eyes with a sort of a resigned tenderness. What other choice did she have? She would never be able to be mad at him anymore. Not now anyway, not when she knew how it felt to be in his arms, when she was not angry, not stressed, and his callous hands were caressing her naked body with a feather touch... She took a deep breath.

"I'm tired. It's late. Let's just forget about that and go home now." She said with a hoarse voice.

He smiled sheepishly but didn't move. She squinted at him, almost defensively.

"What?"

"I left my bike key in the pocket of my jeans." He said, looking down.

She slapped her forehead with her hand and glared at him.

"God! You can't be serious! House, we're in Asbury Park! How do we get back to Princeton now?"

He pointed to a bus stop at the corner of the road, just in front of the club.

"We could take the bus." He suggested with puppy eyes.

# # # # #

She'd decided it was better if she made no comment on the bus ride home. They were lucky enough to have caught one, probably the last, and she dozed off for as long as it lasted, at least she pretended she did, just to avoid having to talk to him. That would not have been a good thing anyway. Still, at some point, cradled by the roaring sound of the engine, she had let her head rest on his shoulder a little, and when she had, she could have sworn she'd felt his body relax noticeably.

Her car was parked in PTTH and although she'd have preferred to go home directly she still needed to stop there to get it back. The bus dropped them off in the large alley in front of the familiar building and as it drove away, they stood there, looking into each other's eyes, not really knowing who should talk first and, moreover, what to say. She was still resentful a little about the concert missed opportunity, but if she were honest with herself, what she was picturing in that instant was the moment when she would be comfortably cuddled up in his arms under her warm bed sheets.

"I can't believe you did what you did!" She told him again, just to let him know she was still a little angry, or at least disappointed. But was she really?

"I screwed up, didn't I?" He mumbled, admitting defeat, with a defensive edge to his tone, "I love you and I wanted this day to be special... and... I screwed up."

Her mouth dropped open. "What? What did you just say?" She exclaimed, astonished.

"I wanted this day to be-"

She seized the hems of his coat and shook him back and forth resolutely.

"No. _Before _that." She commanded.

He set his lips and peered intensely into her compelling light grey eyes. She sustained his stare for an endless moment and she finally let go of his coat, her arms dropping along her thighs as if she were a puppet without strings.

"Do you mean it?" She asked tentatively, with a low voice.

His eyes were piercing right through her, or it felt like it anyway.

"Good God, Cuddy!" He exclaimed theatrically. "I almost lost my mind because of you, what do you think that means?"

And he smiled, with this absolute roguishness of his, he smiled. She stepped closer until he opened his arms and welcomed her inside his embrace. Then she tilted her head up towards his face and he leaned down to kiss her. She bit into the pulp of his lips, sensually, and she felt his arms tightening around her. After a few lingering seconds, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

"Of course I do." He whispered.

"Then I guess we're both screwed, now." She whispered back.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." She shushed him tenderly, "Shut up and just kiss me."

He cupped her face inside the palm of his hands and docilely complied. Languorously, with delicacy and leisureliness, he kissed her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to taste her. The campus' chapel bell suddenly echoed into the night and they broke away from their kiss.

"Midnight." He announced.

She smiled.

"Do you remember that legend they have in U-Mich-" She started.

"Uh-oh, not going there!" He warned, shaking his head 'no.'

"What? That's just a legend-"

"For gullible romantics who think that a bell ringing somewhere will save them from the unavoidable karma of failed relationships statistics with a 'forever and after' love instead! Sorry, not buying it."

"Yeah, cuz' you're not that kind of gullible romantic, are you?" She teased.

"Do I look like I am?"

He smiled. She smiled back and slightly shifted closer inside his arms, rubbing her hips against his, while staring at him tantalizingly. In the distance, they heard the seventh stroke of the bell. He gave her a challenging stare and suddenly, he leaned down and kissed her again, avidly, cupping her skull inside his hand and bringing her face up to his face. She felt her legs give way under her and she griped his coat's lapel for leverage, while the gentle strokes of his tongue inside her mouth tickled her palate and made her feel deliciously dizzy. The bell stopped ringing and he let go of her lips. She stared at him, slightly panting and very aware of her possibly fluttering.

"I, um... I have to go to my office to take some stuff and-" She stammered, short of breath.

"You're not going anywhere." He said, with a killing smile. "Except with me. See? This day is not finished until tomorrow morning, so unless I say so you're not allowed to mention work yet!"

"I can't go to your place, "She objected, "Marina is with Rachel, I need... _We_ need to go to my place-"

"Well, your place, my place! I don't care. Cuddy, I'm standing in the middle of PPTH front step and I'm wearing a pajama's bottom!... with FISHES on it! What I need is to get out of here."

She eyed him up and down with an undressing gaze.

"You're sexy in those PJ pants." She said.

She stretched her neck and caught him off guard with another kiss, greedy and sexy as hell.

"Okay. Wherever we go, all I can say is that we have to get there real fast." He mocked her playfully, pushing her away from him.

She took his hand inside hers.

"So what are we still doing here then?" She answered with a mischievous smile.

With his hand in hers, House let her guide him towards the parking lot, with a limp that, despite the absence of his cane, was almost as bouncy as a dance step.

* * *

**A/N**

_VOILA! __that was the story that all those pics, vids and little infos here and there made me think of for this episode._

_I hope the "I love you" part from House was not too cheesy. I wanted him to say it and I've thought about the way he would quite early in this story. I kept it secret and it was funny to read the comments some of you left, saying that they were perfectly noticing the lack of reciprocity from House to Cuddy's "I love you."_

_But__, I couldn't tell, even then I already knew he wouldn't tell it yet, because I was saving that for the last moment…_

_Also, I want to say the little thing with the bell ringing at midnight is a "true" legend. In U-Mich, which as you all know is the university where House and Cuddy first met, they have a tower on campus and legend says that if two lovers hear the sound of the bell ringing at midnight and they kiss just in the shadow of the tower, then it means their love will last forever... (google it and you'll find more about that)_

_anyway__, don't you agree that it was TOO awesome to stay unnoticed, right? so I really couldn't resist using that little allusion here, especially since there was a description of them kissing during the night, while sounds of bells ringing are heard that was made by people who saw the shooting on location… and I thought it was too good to be dismissed! But I hope I still kept it House-ian…_

_Anyway! again, that was a real joy to do that journey with you all. I loved writing this and putting all the pieces together. I loved imagining this version of the story, from my humble point of view._

_And __I wish you all a wonderful House's premiere! Maybe we'll meet for another chapter, if you want it… :)_

_Love ~ maya_


	10. Home: Maybe This Is Going Somewhere

_Hi everybody !_

_One LAST chapter of "The Wild Escape"_

_I don't really know if this is how I should have read your wishes, but some voices were louder than others so I thought it would be a good thing to add this one opus to the whole story._

_M-rated as I said it would be, but as it turned out, while I was writing it, I found myself developing it for way more than 'just' the sole purpose of this… :)_

_I hope you'll like it._

* * *

**** Chapter 10 ****

After a silent ride home, they arrived at her house and Cuddy parked her car inside the garage. She turned the engine off and tilted her head to the side to look at House with a shy smile. He read uneasiness in the depth of her eyes or embarrassment, or both, and he quite immediately translated it into what he thought bothered her.

"You want me to wait here while you deal with the sitter?"

She arched her eyebrows in surprise, but simultaneously bit her lips, like someone who knows they've just been caught red-handed.

"No, why?" She lied.

"I don't know: two days, two different men..."

Cuddy took a deep breath and stared intensely at the steering wheel in front of her. Then she turned to the side and looked at him with sorry eyes.

"That thought really did cross my mind, didn't it?" She said with a bit of sadness in her voice.

He reached out his hand and touched her thigh, just above her knee. She shivered and covered his hand with hers.

"Yeah, it did!" He said evenly. "But that's ok. I mean, I don't have to meet the babysitter on our first day anyway, do I?"

She smiled.

"No it's not ok. And yes, you have to meet the babysitter on our first day. But mostly because, do I need to remind you, you said you would be the one paying her; and judging by how late it is, you owe her a lot of money! Money, I have no intention of paying on your behalf!"

"Hey but that's your kid she looked after all day!" He protested, for the sake of it.

"Yes, but that's _your_ escapade that made her stay. She'd have gone home hours ago if I had just spent the day at the hospital."

"_Our_ escapade" He corrected and a manly smile lit his face.

She squeezed his long fingers inside her slender hand and sighed voluptuously, but she suddenly released his hand from her grab and took the key out of the starter.

"Let's go!" She said decidedly, opening the door and stepping out of her car.

She disappeared inside her house and he followed her, limping with a strange extra swing, no longer compensated by his cane now that he'd thrown it somewhere in Ashbury Park, in a dark street near the Stone Pony. He closed the door behind him, a roguish smile on his face and entered via the storeroom in her back kitchen. The lights in the room were off but he could still distinctively see the objects and furniture surrounding him, a faint light coming from the lobby suffusing the kitchen with a blurry orange halo. From the hallway, he heard the sounds of Cuddy's voice and the Spanish accent of the nanny answering back with a low reassuring tone. Then the flow of words subsided, died down, and silence invaded the place again. That's when House realized he was still in the kitchen, standing still and almost holding his breath as if he was hidden there like a dirty secret. But who, other than himself was to blame for this stupid reaction? He shook his head and headed to the hallway with a determined pace.

Marina was putting her coat on and turning her back to him so she didn't see him approach. He stopped behind her and conspicuously cleared his throat to let her know of his presence and she jumped with fright, instantly whirling around to face him with a hand covering her heart.

"Hola!" House said with a chanting voice, holding out his hands, "Don't panic, I'm not here to rob the house. I'm just-"

"House!"

Cuddy's exclamation resonated from the end of the hallway and Marina and House both turned their heads towards her. While she approached in what surely was one of her fastest paces, he pointed in her direction and squinted at Marina's baffled face.

"I'm with her." He said, just when Cuddy arrived at his level and stopped beside him, "and, she totally let me in voluntarily." He added, as she stared at him with warning eyes; but too late. "Isn't that right?"

He cracked a possessive, macho spank on her butt to punctuate his question, which made her instantly freeze; then after the few seconds it took her to recover, she turned her head to the side, shooting daggers at him, firmly resolute to kill him right there and then and dispose of his body somewhere in her backyard, with the help of Marina, who would have surely approved of her gesture.

"You are Dr. House?" The babysitter asked him with a wide smile, totally – and wisely -ignoring the extravagant scene she'd just been a witness of.

House smiled softly at her, while Cuddy tried to regain composure.

"Marina, Dr. House _must_ pay you for the extra hours you did to-"

"Oh no, that's not necessary!" The nanny exclaimed, not letting go of House's eyes, who kept smiling at her with a mischievous grin.

Cuddy puffed incredulously.

"What? Marina, it's almost one thirty in the morning and-"

"Don't worry Ms Cuddy, Dr House and I already made an arrangement."

Cuddy's eyes almost popped out of her head.

"Technically I'm the one owing Dr. House the money-" Marina added.

"Tss, please! A deal is a deal!" House exclaimed, with an absolutely surreal shocked gentlemanliness.

Cuddy's jaws dropped in astonishment. She was no longer certain that all of that was really happening. Maybe she was just dreaming it: that day, though incredibly perfect in all its screwed up unique way, had exhausted her and maybe she was asleep, in her bed, imagining this conversation. Whatever it was, she didn't have the strength to find out anymore. Which, God bless her, Marina didn't fail to notice. She stooped down to get her purse at the foot of the coat rack and grabbed the doorknob.

"I'm going to go now, if you don't need me to stay longer."

"Yes Marina, thank you very much!" Cuddy said, not completely able to hide the little relief in her voice.

Standing behind Cuddy, House winked knowingly at Marina; she giggled in return and Cuddy swung around, squinting suspiciously at him, but his face was already back to being undecipherable and impassible as ever.

"What?" He said, repressing a chuckle. "You said it was late. We _all_ need to go to bed now…"

Cuddy's breath itched and she opened her mouth to say something but opted not to. Marina left and Cuddy closed the door behind her, while House swiftly took advantage of the situation to fly away, strategy of retreat looking like his best option at the moment. When Cuddy turned around, she found herself alone in the middle of her entrance. She puffed, stunned by his sassiness and started to walk toward her bedroom but fumbling noises coming from the kitchen guided her there instead where she found him, leaned down with his head inside the refrigerator and his right hand holding the knob for leverage.

"You mind if I grab something to eat?" He asked, as soon as she stepped inside the room, without even lifting his head.

She came behind him and he straightened up, standing with his back facing her, silently waiting for her approval, or at least that's what she thought.

"Yeah su-" she began.

He turned around, chewing loudly, and brandishing something in front of her.

"What's that?"

"That, is a stick of celery."

"Yeah, I know it is. But what is the purpose of having that in your fridge? I mean, how are you supposed to soothe hunger pangs in the middle of the night with sticks of celery?"

"I don't need to soothe hunger pangs in the middle of the night. I don't _have_ hunger pangs in the middle of the night." She answered defensively.

He studied her with a tantalizing smile for a brief moment and then put the celery down on the counter next to him before confidently yanking her in his arms. She stumbled, taken off guard, and landed against his chest.

"There're so many things you still need to experience." He teased, looking down at her.

"Like how to bribe my babysitter?" She frowned and raised her chin up towards his face.

"I was thinking about hunger pangs, but that too, yeah."

"What did Marina mean when she said you and her had an agreement?"

"Ha! Sorry, one lesson at a time!" He leaned down and came dangerously close to her mouth, blowing warm breaths on the pulp of her lips. "We were talking about being hungry." He whispered and she sucked in a wobbling breath, her shoulders slightly shivering.

"No _you_ were talking about being hungry."

He let go of her and took a small step back.

"Geez Cuddy! Relax! You think I'm not capable of dealing responsibly with your nanny?"

"That's not what I said."

"So what's the problem?"

"There's no problem." She said, looking down at her feet, uneasily. "I'm just... I guess I'm not... used to seeing you like that."

"See? I told you: you still have a lot to learn..."

He pulled her back against him and she covered the side of his arms with her hands, planting her steel grey eyes in his fond gaze. He was right: things seemed to be so different already, despite them still being quite familiar. It was both puzzling and comforting at the same time and it made her head spin a little. She didn't realize she was slightly losing her balance, until he wound his arms tightly around her waist to maintain her up.

"You need to eat." He said, ordering more than suggesting.

"I'm not hungr-"

"You're dizzy."

"I'm tired."

"We haven't eaten since this afternoon. You're sugar deprived."

"I'm _sleep_ deprived."

"Maybe, but I'm not going to help you solve _that_ problem. Actually I strongly intend on making it worse for, let's say..." He flashed an incredibly roguish smile at her, "the next two hours at least..."

"In your dreams!"

She smiled.

He let go of her and looked inside the refrigerator again. She heard him mumble a few incoherent words and then he turned back to face her.

"Close your eyes." He said.

"Why? No!"

"It's an experiment."

"What experiment?"

"Close your eyes and you'll see."

She sighed resignedly, knowing that trying to resist would only cause her to lose some more time; time that only seemed to stand defiantly between her and her bed, as a sweet torture. She closed her eyes and fidgeted impatiently, waiting for whatever she was supposed to wait for.

"Open your mouth."

She opened her eyes instead and stared at him a bit aggravated.

"House, come on! Can't you just give me something to eat now so we can get this over with?"

He stubbornly stared back, silently, until she closed her eyes again, sighing, and opened her mouth. God! She thought, she really needed to stop that yielding weakness she was developing in his presence! And then she felt something cold and a little gummy on her tongue. She grimaced and swallowed half-heartedly.

"What's that?" She asked.

"That, is what's in your fridge!"

She opened her eyes and questioned him with a look of surprise.

"I have that in my fridge? No way! I don't eat that."

House brandished a cup to her, with a smile.

"Banana semolina pudding." He read on the label.

Cuddy snatched the cup out of his hand, putting it back in the fridge.

"It's Rachel's food." She said, rolling her eyes.

"Well lucky her! Cuz I'm pretty sure I picked the only decent food there is in your fridge!"

"House! Do you have a point?" She asked a little exasperated.

He froze and suddenly stared at her almost with panic in his eyes. The shadow she saw passing behind his gaze took her aback; and the extreme cautiousness with which he was looking at her, almost waiting to know what would come next - almost puzzled by that very idea – made her shiver. She took a step toward him and smiled tenderly.

"Now you know there's at least one person who eats decent food in this house." She said with a soft voice.

He sighed and bit his lower lip, as if he was searching for the right words; words he thought he didn't have. She read his distress and slowly closed the last inches that separated them to snuggle up against him. When she buried her face in his chest and gently rubbed her nose against his male-scented tee-shirt, she heard him took a deep breath and he cupped her skull with both his hands, caressing her hair tentatively.

"She's sleeping?" He asked with a raspy voice barely above a whisper.

Cuddy straightened up and looked at him incredulously.

"Rachel." He specified, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Yes, she is. She's sound asleep." She answered, huddling up against him again.

"Good." He murmured.

He enfolded her in his embrace, and she let herself go in his warmth, inhaling deeply and remaining perfectly still. And then she kissed him. On his chest, just where her mouth was; and she put her hands on his hips, sliding underneath his tee-shirt to touch his skin, and climbing up on his belly, drawing circles on his torso with her caresses. House didn't move at first, but she knew, without looking, that he had closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little. Only one day had passed and despite the novelty and somewhat frightening unknown that were standing ahead of them, there were things she'd already unveiled with absolute certainty; things that were the very reasons that had brought her back to him the night before; like the kind of lover he was, behind the mask and under the shell: delicate and caring; unselfish and tender.

She tugged at his collar, uncovering the crook of his neck and the hems of his bandage, and he leaned down slowly to meet her lips. It felt like a stroke, chin against chin, when he brushed his lips on hers and a wave of desire took hold of her. She let out a soft moan and claimed his mouth more impatiently, a powerful crave for contact pervading her. They deepened their kiss, and when she felt the touch of his callous hands on the small of her back, pressing her closer against him, she gripped his shoulders and bit in the pulp of his lips.

"I don't need to eat. I don't want-" She moaned throatily, into his mouth.

He pushed her against the counter and nose-dived into her neck.

"I know what you want." He blew along her carotid.

His nimble fingers fumbled with the buttons of her cardigan and he drew the tails apart to undress her, while his mouth continued to explore the sensitive spots in her nape. Shivering, she groped around and found his hands at the waistband of her pants. She seized his wrists and pushed them away before he had time to reach the next step.

"No-" She panted.

"No?"

She straightened up and looked at him with a reassuring lustful gaze, clearly saying that her 'no' was already half a 'yes'.

"Not here! As much as I... love sex in the kitchen, I'm not up for another round on a cold hard surface..." She pouted. "Sorry."

He grinned amused, and put out his hand to her. They exited the kitchen and once in the hallway, he stopped to kiss her again. She gave in, leaning her back on the wall and interlaced her fingers behind his neck to pull him down closer to her face. Nibbling, kissing, licking, caressing, she slowly but firmly tugged him with her, making him follow in her footsteps towards her bedroom. But, despite the compelling attraction she exercised on him, he grabbed her shoulders and made her break away from their embrace.

"No."

"No?" She'd started to smile, thinking he was just playing with her, but it died down on her lips when a sudden flustered look clouded his face over. "What's wrong?" She asked, feeling a sudden gush of awkwardness pervade her.

He looked down, self-consciously.

"I don't know if I really wanna go there."

"What? Wait, where?" She exclaimed.

"In your bed. Not sure I wanna be in _those_ sheets..."

She bit her lips and stared at him, terrified by the meaning of his words. She felt cruel in an irrational way that she was totally incapable of containing and she looked up at him, mortified. He instantly came close to her and took her inside his arms.

"No, no, I don't mean it in that way! No, it's okay. It's not your fault. It's okay." He reassured her, gently cradling her face inside the palms of his hands. She closed her eyes and he leaned down to kiss her eyelids, softly.

"I'm gonna go home." He then said with a low voice.

She extricated from his embrace and look at him, disconcerted.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know... You're tired, I should let you sleep." He whispered.

"You can't go. You don't have your bike."

"I'll call a cab."

"No. I don't want you to go."

Her eyes were pleading but she'd managed to speak with a resolute tone. She stared at him, with an almost daring look.

"Ok."

She couldn't contain the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. She took his hand to guide him in the living room, and to the sofa, where she made him sit. She stood in front of him and, before he had the time to say anything, she took off both her tee-shirt and cardigan in one swift confident gesture. He arched his eyebrows in surprise, but smiled appreciatively.

"You said you had no intention of helping me with my lack of sleep..." She said mischievously, taking a step toward the couch.

"Did I?"

She put one knee alongside his thigh and bent over to his face, reaching out her arm behind his head to grip the backrest for leverage.

"Yeah. For at least two hours."

"And you believed me? You're so gullible!"

He chuckled.

"Yeah, who'd have known?" She answered with a hoarse voice, leaning down to his face.

He took a deep breath and squirmed on the couch underneath her.

"How's your leg?"

"Fine... It doesn't hurt too much."

"But it does?" She looked concerned.

As a unique answer, he tugged her wrist and it made her topple in his arms. She instantly repositioned herself to avoid applying pressure on his thigh and he smiled at her fondly. She stared back at him, silent, and suddenly her whole body ached for his caresses. Without wasting one more second, she threw herself to him and ravenously kissed him, while her hand slid at the waistband of his pants, trying to pull them down.

"I thought I looked sexy in those PJ pants..." He moaned inside her mouth, as she was struggling to remove them without breaking away from their kiss. She did anyway, and pulled away, panting.

"Not as sexy as you'll look without them." she said, suddenly jumping off the couch.

She kicked her shoes off, carelessly, and then wiggled frenziedly to take off her pants. Only moments after, she stood in front of him in her underwear, her cheeks flushed with desire and impatience. He studied her with a look of admiration mingled with bafflement, and when she leaned down to him, with a feline glitter in her steel grey eyes, he tipped his head back on the sofa's backrest and sucked in a sharp breath. She helped him get rid of his tee-shirt first, and she trailed a line of kisses on his chest, from his collarbone to his navel, rubbing her nose on his skin and feeling the up and down waves of his breathing cradling her softly. Then she seized the waistband of his PJs pants and slowly slid them off his legs, along with his boxers, finishing undressing him completely by taking off his sneakers and socks. Seated naked on her couch, House stared at her with a complete surrendering gaze, emotionally unguarded and serene like she thought she would never see him again.

The way he had let go of decades of pain and confusion with his patient the night before, with such uncensored honesty had been the signal of him starting to unlock his emotions and since then, every time she'd witnessed him appear so genuinely raw and fragile had equally fascinated her, just as she was feeling in that very moment, looking at him staring at her with expecting eyes. It made her almost want to cry; she could sense the flow of mingled emotions of joy, awe and desire brewing inside her and there was nothing she wanted to do more than make love to him and become his, unreservedly, once again.

She kneeled down between his legs and she put her hands on his thighs. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and she saw his abdominal muscles contract in expectation, or apprehension, or maybe both so she began to run her fingertips on his skin. She didn't try to avoid his scar. She even trailed a little longer around and on it, just to show him she wasn't afraid, just to tell him she accepted it, just to let him know she didn't care: she wanted him like he was. Exactly like he was.

As her hands kept on fondling up and down the sides of his thighs, she leaned down and kissed him delicately. On his belly, on his hipbone, on his groin. His erection left no doubt about the growing desire he was feeling for her. She kissed him there, on the tip of his shaft, and along its length. Her hands climbed to his hips and she took him inside her mouth. He let out a loud gasp and he clenched his fists while she continued to caress and lick and kiss; and it felt so good. She felt so good, almighty and helpless at the same time. She had him at her mercy. He had her at his mercy. To feel him revive and throb with such powerful force under her tongue strokes made her feel more alive than she had ever been in months.

It was like crawling out of dark tunnel: overwhelming, soothing, and warming; so many feelings she had forgotten about... She was learning how to feel them again, finally, thanks to _him_...

He put out his hand and touched her shoulder; she lifted her face up to meet his eyes and he smiled at her.

"Come here." He told her with a raspy voice full of lust.

She stood up and he sat up straight in the couch, coming close to her. His head came at her midriff's level. He enfolded her in his arms and he rested his face on her stomach, squeezing her tight and laying light, tender kisses on her skin, while his fingers unhooked her bra. He pulled back and lost contact with her skin only for a few seconds, enough to slide the bra stripes off her arms and take it off of her. As she was still standing in front of him, her breasts exposed to him, he stroked the small of her back and the delicious, half tickling sensation made her jolt forward. She griped his shoulders to keep her balance and he came close to her again, taking one of her breasts inside his mouth, sucking her nipple with an absolute delicacy, awakening every one of her nerve endings and arousing her desire inexorably, higher and higher, until it made her purr like a cat, while the sway of her hips appealed him compellingly to the part of her body where she was aching to feel him. He knew what she was asking. Their love language, new to them, was however not completely unrevealed; it was like the burning reminiscence of their long-time repressed fantasies. They knew exactly what it meant, what it longed for. They knew what to do, without words. House instantly read her dance, deciphered her moans and understood her needs. He slid his hands inside her panties and grasped her ass cheeks, kneading her flesh with a lascivious rhythm, while his tongue on her breast kept twirling and licking and sucking skillfully.

She almost roared then and she instinctively clutched her fingers, planting her nails in his upper back. House slid her panties down to her calves. She stepped out of them and he leaned down to her lower abdomen, nipping her belly skin, where it was tender and thin, warm and soft as the softest silk. She stepped back and, with his hands on both sides of her waist, he motioned her to lie down on the couch. She let him guide her, following his moves and waiting for him to take the position he wanted to have. She lied down on the couch and stretched herself completely to welcome him above her. He positioned himself on top of her and sheltered her petite frame underneath his strapping body, accompanying his gesture with gentle caresses on her shoulders and arms.

She still remembered, from a long, long time ago. She shouldn't have been so amazed by how tender he was, and yet it struck her, irrepressibly. She would never have imagined that he could still be so gentle, _now_, again, despite all the pain he had lived through. She'd had irrational thoughts about him being a bitter, impatient lover or that life and loneliness would have scarred him just as his infarction had scarred his leg. She'd thought he would be cynical, less caring. But she was willing to love him even so. And now, it was not just about willing to love him anymore. She knew the moment she'd stepped in her bathroom that she was giving up on her will, her reasonable needs. She'd accepted to love him and it was more than just about willing to. Somehow, she was now _condemned_ to.

Because there was no way out of this.

When she was feeling the touch of his hands on her like she was in that moment, when his breath was brushing the skin of her neck and all she could focus her mind on was the breath-taking sensation of him diving inside her, she knew there wasn't.

But she didn't care.

House put his right hand under the small of her back to maintain a close contact with her hips and he began to thrust inside her. Slowly. And within each shove, languorous and sensual, her gasps became louder. It felt like a wave inside her, unstoppable and overpowering. It simply took her breath away. His rhythm, his strength, his restraint, the movement of his hips. Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Her moans became cries and her back arched up towards him, to increase the sensation of his thrusts in her core. She wound one leg around his hip, then the other, and she encircled him, keeping him close, and imprisoning him inside her. She was panting lustfully and House gently kissed her lips, while his hand stroked her hair and he stopped moving for a second.

"No, again, again, again..." she pleaded inside his mouth, short of breath.

And he began to rock his hips again. Cuddy wound her arms around his neck and she threw her head back on the sofa's armrest. He nose-dived in her neck and nibbled her exposed skin and the rising flow of her orgasm took hold of her whole body, spreading in her stomach, contracting her muscles, jerking her limbs incoherently, and making her tremble from head to toe underneath him.

"Oh God yes, yes... yes... House, right there! Yes..."

She scraped him hard on his back and she squashed him between her toned legs and he collapsed onto her, panting through her hair. They remained immobile, him on top of her, recovering from their amazing ride, catching their breath, and after a short while, House rolled to the side, his back against the sofa's backrest and she slithered to come as close to him as she could. She reached out her arm above his shoulder and grabbed the comforter that was folded there to cover their bodies. He helped her spread it on top of them and once they found a new comfortable, warm position beneath the blanket, she sighed in pure bliss and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm never going to want to sleep again." She said, with a light chuckle in her voice.

He kissed her on her forehead and held her closer and tighter in his embrace.

"You can't stop sleeping. If you don't sleep, you'll die."

She lifted her head to look at him and rolled her eyes disapprovingly.

"Wow! I love pillow talk with you, it's so... what's the word?... comforting!"

"Well, that's true!" He faked to protest with a smile.

"I know. And I was not talking about that."

"I know what you were talking about. Sex maniac!"

"Are you complaining?"

"Me? Good God, no!" His hand was fondling the round shape of her shoulder, almost absent-mindedly. "I might get used to it." He added suddenly serious, his voice low and hoarse.

She took a deep voluptuous breath, and snuggled up against him, closing her eyes and letting his male scent fill her nostrils.

"You know that's the fourth time we're doing it today." He said point blank, still caressing her gently.

She propped herself up on her elbow and look at him dumbfounded.

"Are you starting a count of how many times we're having sex?" She asked bemused.

He stopped caressing her and wriggled until he pulled away from her enough to face her.

"No." He told her, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Then why do you say that?"

"Because..." He stared at her intensely, "it's one more time than the last time."

Her mouth dropped open slightly and she felt her heart pounding in her chest like drumbeats. Was he really talking about that night, so far away in time? The night she had tried to forget, unsuccessfully and forcefully so many times. The fact that he could remember that particular detail took her off guard in the most delightful way. She shivered and stared at him tenderly.

"I think... maybe it's a sign." He whispered tentatively.

"What sign?" She asked, putting out her hand to caress his cheek.

"That this is really going somewhere this time."

She bit her lips as the wave of tenderness overwhelmed her. Perhaps she'd made the worst decision in her life. Perhaps they would burn in hell and destroy each other. Perhaps they would end with their hearts shattered in pieces and forever wrecked. Only time would tell. But in that instant, may it have lasted just this one day, she still wouldn't have traded it for the world.

She came close to his face and kissed him with all the love he inspired her: sensually, and with insatiable hunger. No, she would never have enough of him. Not if he could be like that with her, must it only be for the moments when they would be just the two of them together. She didn't need more. Just him, cradling her in his arms and making her feel like the most fulfilled woman in the word.

"How about it starts with us going in my bedroom to sleep in a real bed?" She asked, cautiously, fearing that he would decline and leave, for the reasons he had evoked earlier.

He planted his baby blue eyes in hers and stared at her, resolutely mute.

"You know," She added, swallowing back her awkwardness, "I'm sure Marina changed the sh-"

He put his finger on her lips and silenced her.

"Shhh," He said, and then he smiled at her. "I don't care. All I want to do is sleep now. Somewhere comfortable; because maybe it's just the right size for your tiny little body, but in case you didn't notice, your blanket is as useful as a handkerchief for me!"

He pouted sulkily and pointed at his feet which extended beyond the woolen comforter. She burst into a spontaneous laughter, the knot in her throat suddenly eased by the relief she'd felt to know he would stay with her. She drew the blanket out and threw it away, uncovering their naked bodies and then she swiftly stood up and looked down at him with a playful smile.

"Come on, big boy," She said, teasingly, "I'm sure you can make it to five if you're in a real bed!"

And she exited the room, almost running, before he had time to get up.

" Hey! I said I wanted to _sleep_!" He shouted to her as she was probably already half-way down the hallway. He then looked at the messy heap of clothes on the floor and he smiled with mischief.

He got up, turned the lights off in the living room and with a light pace, barely limping, he joined her in her bedroom.

~ THE END ~

* * *

_**A/N**_

_Ok so that's it this time! It's the end, for real..._

_I hope you've enjoyed this story. And I hope it didn't feel too much AU of OOC. It was a subtle process for me to find the right equilibrium between House the romantic (as I see him) and House the impossible, exhausting selfish 'kid', as he can also be some time…_

_anyway! THE DAY OF THE PREMIERE HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!_

_Tomorrow, better than any fictions, even better than any wishes we've dared to have, we'll finally see House and Cuddy again... and "it's going nuclear!" :)_

_so take care, enjoy, be happy! ~ Maya_


End file.
